When Chibis Attack!
by chaosbfly
Summary: Ever thought about the logistical problems of being 1 foot tall, with mittenhands and eyes taking up a full half of your face? How would the cast of Saiyuki handle this in a real world environment? Parody of all things Chibi.
1. Part 1: In Which There is Drinking

Disclaimer: We make Saiyuki fan-fiction much as South Pacific tribes once made cargo-cult idols resembling ships that landed on their shores. They didn't expect them to sail, and I don't think anyone will mistake this for Minekura's real stuff. 

**When Chibis Attack! Part 1**

This morning, in the wee hours when I track out into the kitchen in pursuit of food and pills and water, there is a Chibi Sanzo sitting on my kitchen table. It is man-handling a newspaper twice its height, and attempting to light a stick of Pocky.

Blink.

Still there.

(Oh! She's awake!)

Walk to the fridge in search of food, intent on following the directions on the bottle. "**Take With Food**", it says, and I will damn well eat!

("Maybe we're invisible)  
("How the hell should I know?")

Open the fridge.

* * *

_Curiously Empty_.  
Where are my leftovers? Where are the uneaten Shanghai noodles? Where are those ancient cabbage rolls I was secretly hoping would dissapear? Why is there a tiny Son Goku sleeping in my wilted lettuce? 

I refuse to do double takes on principle. If I didn't get it the first time, I likely never will.

* * *

_Change of Plans_.  
Reach for the rum instead. Check the side of the pill bottle again. Food, not alcohol, is still the required item. Damn. 

Milk bottle, reasonably fresh? Coffee whitener is probably safer, despite aluminum and trans fats.

Take Whitener. Key Item aquired.

* * *

The Itty Bitty Monkey King has been awakened by my extraction procedures, and gives me a vaguely frantic, guilty look. It leaps out of the fridge and runs away, skittering around the corner. 

No. That must have been... a rat. A rat in the fridge. That's just gross, not crazy.

* * *

Cereal from shelf. Turn to counter, and -  
("Good morning! Excuse me, I won't be a minute, just tidying up )  
That is not a tiny Cho Hakkai hauling individual plates and cups off of the drying rack with super-derformed hands and lugging them across impossible kitchen landscapes to the cupboards. 

Bowl. Fill with Cereal. Add Whitener.  
("That's probably not very good for )  
Add a little water. Go to table.

"**Take With Food**", Damnit!

* * *

_Sit_. 

Cereal onto Spoon. ("I'm not at all certain she can see us.") Spoon into mouth. ("So what?") Close lips. Withdraw spoon.

Claim a section of the paper not attached to the miniature monk. Open it. Try to focus eyes.

* * *

"Coffee?" 

"Hell Yes." Realise, semi-sub-conciously that my answer is echoed by the mini-monk. Let's pretend I was answering a question from the paper, such as -- "Is the new traffic safety right-sized for the metropolitan area?" Yeah. That deserves my verbal support.

This line of reasoning provides a small distraction from the elaborate array of arcane strings and pullies hoisting a coffee pot and 2 cups onto my kitchen table. Apparently chibi arms and super-deformed hands weren't immediately up to the task.

It takes 2 chibis to sucessfully pour coffee into a mug, Goku having judged the danger to have passed enough to return. The first coffee is immediately confiscated by the Littlest Monk. The second is set in front of my gradually emptying bowl.

* * *

Check the side of the pill bottle. Conditions Met. Take one of each, replace bottle lids, set on table, lift coffee cup-  
--I could have poured myself a coffee, and just not remember doing it-  
--_Good Coffee_.

* * *

I'm too damn lazy to make real coffee in the morning. That's what instant is for. That's the whole purpose of its existence.

* * *

"This is not my coffee." 

"Oh. No, you see, I got it out of your fridge earlier, which is when Goku got in. I'm sorry about that, by the way --"

"Yeah, sorry. I was stuck, and being stuck makes me hungry --"

Stand up. Return to the fridge.

"Yes, you see, that's where I got the beans --"

"Hakkai, I don't think she can hear you."

"It seems that way, doesn't it..."

Reach for the Rum.

* * *

I'm still dreaming, which explains all of this. Obviously. So I just need to wake up, which I will, any moment now. In the mean time... 

("Oh well... might as well be useful while we're here...")

I reach for a shot glass. Chibi Hakkai passes by my legs with a little "Excuse me."

The sound of a paper fan smacking the back of a head, and a yelp.  
("Don't touch her cereal, you stupid monkey!")

Reach for a juice glass. Fill half way with rum.

* * *

My Underwear Waltzes Into the Room. 

("Check out these babies)  
My underwear skids across the kitchen floor and proceeds to climb a chair leg.  
("What do you think you're doing, you perverted Kappa?")

I fill the glass the rest of the way.


	2. Part 2: In Which it Continues

**When Chibis Attack Part 2**

I hear a sound, a tiny muffled explosion, from inside my oven. Quiet, echoey chanting prefaces each little boom, much as would be caused by a miniature Hakkai setting off Chi explosions in an oven in an attempt to remove years of caked-on grime. But that would just be silly. So silly.

I refuse to look. Drain the glass of rum instead.

* * *

Pills on the Table: Mission Acccomplished. But wait! There are the Pills on the Microwave, carelessly forgotten. Leave table. Examine bottles. "**Take With Food**." I wonder if the previous food intake counts. Obviously, I can't afford to risk it. 

Glance at the table.

My underwear is attempting to beat up the Monkey King. The paper is drinking a coffee with both hands.

My cereal appears to be momentarily safe.

Refill glass of rum.

Return to my seat.

* * *

Spoon and cereal in mouth. 

("Hey, cutie... You know, I like big women!")

Close lips, remove spoon, swallow,

My own underwear propositioning me seems to elicit the wrath of the paper, which folds up a portion of itself, and proceeds to beat my underwear with it.

I take the pills.

("Put those back, goddamn Kappa")  
("None of your business, crap-faced monk!")

Drink another half of the rum.

("Hey, are you going to finish that cereal?")

* * *

I sit back and close my eyes, vaguely aware that the tiny explosions have stopped and a fourth chibi is now occupying my table-for-one. 

("Now, now, we're guests here...")

* * *

I'm concious of _pressure on my neck_. It's hard to ignore neck pressure. Perhaps I'm choking to death in my sleep... 

("Gojyo, put those back or I'll have to beat the crap out of you")  
("This sucks")  
("Get out of that cereal, Stupid Monkey")  
("Ow!")

"Heeeeee..."

* * *

_That was right by my ear_. Pressure on my neck and --

* * *

"Heeeeeeeeee..."

* * *

Reluctantly, I open my eyes. Slowly, I turn my head to the right. 

Even the cutest, smallest face is enormous when its posesser is sitting on your shoulder, hugging your neck.

With a look of profound bliss on his face, Chibi Kougaiji gives me a big Chibi Grin.

"I wuv you!"

_Blink_.

"Heeeeee..."

* * *

Face the table. Focus eyes on the crumpled newspaper, cereal-splashed underwear and assorted super-deformed creatures. 

"Um. Yes. We're not sure either. Whatever brought us here seems to have broken Kougaiji's brain."

"He's not usually like that," pipes up Chibi-Goku on behalf of the ear-snuggling youkai.

"Yeah, he's usually way more irritating..."

"Stupid Kappa!"

"Stupid Monkey!"

"Maybe he thinks you're his mother..."

* * *

My underwear begins fighting with the Monkey King... again. I finish the rum. 

"Hey."

Tiny Genjyo Sanzo gives me a look of utter chibi determination, as if trying to intimidate me with sheer adorability.

"Can you see us?" he asks.

"No." I state definitively.

* * *

Push back the chair. Stand. 

("Did you hear that")  
("Yeah, and I could've sworn she could")  
("You really are stupid")  
("Oh yeah!")

Walk down the hall. Open bedroom door.

Remove fluffy Kougaiji from shoulder. Held at arm's length, it speaks:

"I wuv you!"

Put it on the floor, quickly step backwards into the room and close door. Push rifled underwear drawer shut. Go Back to Bed.

* * *

I am dreaming. If you fall asleep when you're dreaming, you wake up. So, therefore...

* * *

I close my eyes with determination 

("I think it was a little much for her")  
("Oh well. Hey! She left the rum out")  
("And the cereals")  
("Um... Kougaiji? What are you doing...?")

* * *

Scrabbling noise. Cat must be trying to get in. Stupid cat. Must sleep now. 

Metallic scrabbling noise.

Stupid cat.

Door cracks open.

Stupid cat, learning to open stupid doors.

Door clicks closed.

Well that's nice. What a polite kitty. Good night, kitty.

_...sleep_


	3. Part 3: In Which There is a Gun

When Chibis Attack! Part 3 

**In Which There is a Gun **

_Wake up_

Headache. Weird dream, will have to write that one down. Ha ha, strange what the mind will do.

Lift head.

Can't lift head.

* * *

Stupid cat is sleeping on my head again. Why does she do that? Rat-bag is trying to kill me, I'm sure. She'll eat me in my sleep, one day. 

"Come on, fuzzy-buttons, shift your hefty self --"

Reach over shoulder to remove colonizing kitty.

* * *

"Heeeeee"  
"I wuv you."

* * *

Awww. That's so cute.  
I think I need another drink.

* * *

My kitchen is spotless, though it has the carmelized-sugar smell of someone trying to smoke Japanese stick confectionary. 

Small voices arguing. Why is it always voices? Aren't visual hallucinations maddening enough?

"I wish they'd all stop talking." The mumbles escape me.

"So do I." Thanks for the input, Lil' Sanzo.

"I wuv you!" Oh god...

"Coffee? I'm afraid we're out of rum..."

* * *

The banana bowl is empty of bananas, yet strangely full. It's acting as a bed for two snoring chibis, softly lined with my underwear.

* * *

_Sigh_. 

Try to put down Kougaiji. Can't. He's attached to my arm by hug power.

_Sigh_.

"Coffee. Yes. Please."

* * *

While he fills my fresh, unusually clean mug, Lil' Hakkai feels the need to add unwanted explanation like a free shot of steak-flavored syrup in the brew. 

"As best as I can remember, we were travelling across the land of Chibigenkyo on our way to Ten-Chibbikyu when..."

It all registers as a mild form of blah blah blah from there. No thank you, Little Barrista Man, I think I'll skip the steak syrup today, even if it is free.

* * *

Lift coffee to mouth and drink. Focus on inside of cup, looking outside is hazardous to the swallowing ability. 

Kougaiji continues to cling to my right arm with wuv-powered grip, parallel to the ground whenever I sip.

"...and so we all followed him, and before we knew it..."

Aren't you done yet? Curses... to face this level of morning I need a drink with more life-force than coffee. Rum! The extra effort to lift my wuv-weighted arm would be worth it if there was rum in this mug.

"So we came out of the cabinet under your bathroom sink. But when we tried to go back through the door, all that was under there were outdated free samples of deoderant and a few packages of..."

Screw it.

* * *

_Stand_. 

Pull on shoes. Find wallet. Where's my keys?

"Where are you going?"

"I'm out of rum."

"Oh. Well, if you're going shopping, I have a list of a few other things we're going to need..."

"Can you get them at the liquor store?"

"Um. No. But we'll happily reimburse you..."

"Liquor store. Rum. Home. Unconciousness." That's a well organised list, I'd say.

* * *

There are a variety of objections floating around my knees as I hunt for my keys. 

"Hey."

Keys, knees... geese...

"I'm out of cigarettes."

Jacket! Keys live in Mr. Jacket. That way I don't get cold when I go outside.

"Marlboro Red. Filtered."

"I don't buy cigarettes." That's an automatic response, the same voice as I use for the kids outside the Red.

"Take the card. Get them at the liquor store."

"I'm allergic to cigarettes, hence I do not buy cigarettes." I knew a man who was allergic to chocolate once. And a girl who was allergic to coffee. Tragic thing, allergies.

"Um, I'm sorry, but he tends to get...even more violent without his cigarettes. It's probably best if..."

* * *

I have found you, Mr. Jacket! Hurrah! Now where the hell are my keys? 

"I don't buy cigarettes. Forget it." The pocket search song: pockets, pockets, which of my pockets...

"Just pick up the goddamn cigarettes, woman!"

"Go get them yourself."

* * *

I find myself face to barrel with a small, fat gun. The hammer is drawn back, and a pudgy chibi-finger is on the trigger. 

"I said, Marlboro Red. Filtered."

* * *

How did they manage to make a gun look cute? I mean, it's a weapon, it shouldn't be _possible_ to make it cute. 

I reach out and grasp the tiny barrel between two fingers.

Really, how can any weapon be cute? But this little gun - lifted to eye level for closer inspection - is quite adorable. It has a little Heart on the side instead of a Ying-Yang, and appears to be made by 'Kiss and Hugson'.

It also has a very angry chibi dangling from the grip, who chooses this moment to pull the trigger.

* * *

A stick shoots out of the barrel, and down flops a flag. 

"Bang!" reads the flag.

* * *

_Blink_. 

"...you should be careful. You could poke someone's eye out."

* * *

I put the red and twitching Sanzo back on the table and walk to the door. The Keys are hanging on their hook, right where I left them. 

I must now negotiate with care.

"I can't put on a coat if you're on my arm."

"I wuv you!"

"Then you don't want me to get a cold, do you?"

"...wuv you..."

Kougaiji drops off my arm like an incredibly adorable salted leech.

"It's... uh... bad luck to put on a coat indoors. One second."

I open the door and step backwards outside.

"I wuv..."

"LOOK! Ice Cream!"

Slam.

_Sigh_.


	4. Part 4: In Which Rum is Bought

**When Chibis Attack! Part 4**

**In Which Rum is Bought. **

The sky is blue, high above me. Sun hurts my eyes, but it feels good. My car door is notably solid; real, even. Hum a cheerful little tune: glad to know I'm not crazy, or at least sane enough to drive. Even the rattle of the wiggly bumper sounds refreshingly lucid as I pull out.

"So, we're finally alone."

_Crap_.

* * *

"Nice job ditching Hug Boy, by the way. I don't go for the clingy types either." 

Chibi Gojyo is trying to look sexy lounging on my front passenger seat. It's hard to look sexy when you're half as wide as you are tall, but he's still trying very hard. I suppose he'd have to stand on the seat to whistle at any girls outside...

"Why don't we go have a little fun, then? Just the two of us..."

Ah, shi...

"Um... Excuse me..."

_Breathe.

* * *

_

"Aw, man! Hakkai, you're always ruining my cool!"

"I'm sorry, Gojyo, but there are a few things we need to pick up..."

How many of more are back there?

Ha ha. None. No, there's nothing there at all. The road now, focus on your destination.

"The liquor store."

"Whoo-yeah! Baby, you know where the party starts!"

"Gojyo, I'm sure she'll make other stops. And please get off the dashboard. This car doesn't drive itself, you know." No, ma'am, that was not a hula doll you saw on my dashboard. Hula dolls run in nicer company, and there are dances they just won't do. I wish it was a hula doll.

"The liquor store."

"Yes and..."

"The liquor store."

"...uh-oh. I think she's losing it again, Hakkai."

"Then sit on the seat and be quiet before we both die messy, messy deaths."

* * *

As long as I only look at the road, the voices are voices on the radio. And the head that occasionally pops into my rear-view mirror is... a trick of the light on my tissue box. Curse those fancy new age patterns.

* * *

The Liquor Store. 

"Rum."

Life, it occurs to me, is composed of long strings of auto pilot separated by short bursts of wondering what the hell just happened.

This is the shelf. This is the bottle.

"That's the one for sure," says my left ankle. "I could hardly lift that sucker. Of course, it got lighter as it got emptier, ha ha!"

Hardly lift -- is that so? Cobwebbed cogwheels turn. This bottle goes back. _That _bottle is one class larger, and yet more welcome. My blissfully ignorant left ankle begins to celebrate loudly. "We're having a party tonight! _You'll_ have to pour that sucker..."

Yes. Yes, I will.

* * *

I cannot completely ignore the sudden, muffled squeak, followed by dragging sounds. An unfortunately placed anti-theft mirror shows me Hakkai dragging Gojyo, bound and gagged, back out to the car. Lil' Hakkai gives me a gentle wave on the way out.

* * *

The till. 

"Hey, I could have sworn I saw something moving over there. Was it a rat?" asks Mr. Minimum Wage-Clerk.

"Yes. They're everywhere. Filthy creatures."

Outside, to gently cradle my bottle in the sea of junk that is my trunk. Its safety is paramount.

* * *

I wonder if this is how sidewalk shouters get started. When your own hallucinations ignore you, perhaps you begin to shout at passers by. 

Nonetheless, I must get back into my car and drive home. There, sweet unconsciousness awaits.

* * *

"Um. If you'll stop for groceries," begins Hakkai, Negotiator at Small, "I'll cook dinner tonight. Of course then, if we don't stop, Goku may try to eat you in the night." 

"I will not be conscious to know about it."

"Ah. Well. Kougaiji probably wouldn't approve, and he and Goku can be very noisy when they get scrappy. It could keep you unfortunately conscious."

"Rum will solve that problem in high enough quantities." It is an excellent solvent for dissolving these kinds of problems.

"I see."

There is a minute and blissful pause.

"You're out of cat food."

A moment of sitting in the exit of the parking lot, contemplating the meaning of my life.

"I'll go get cat food."

Grocery Store, here we come. My senior kitizen has me well trained, and will smother me with her fuzz if I don't bring home the biscuit.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Notes:

A giant "Thank you!" and chibi-huggles to all who read and reviewed, risking diabeties and cavities.

Special thanks to Summoner Rekka and Kout3uka who read this even when it was posted in an unlikely location...

I dreamed more of this than my id will allow my ego to admit. In fact, I'm wearing a freudian slip right now. It helps me out when I say one thing but mean your mother.


	5. Part 5: In Which Nothing is Drunk

**When Chibis Attack! Part 5**

"I've got a little list" Chibi Hakkai begins, completely failing to cite Gilbert and Sullivan (or Kazuya Minekura) as source material. "If you don't mind getting a few things."

It is a very little list, with even tinier writing.

"I can't read this."

"I suppose you'll need me with you then."

"Ah."

"It should be alright as long as we ride in a cart with your jacket over us."

"We."

"Well, the other option is to leave Gojyo in the car. Alone. With the rum."

"I'll be fine here! I promise I won't break anything..." Chibi Gojyo is already trying to figure out how to get into the trunk from the passenger compartment, overcoming the difficulties of his tiny body and super deformed hands. I can see it in his chibi little eyes. Chibi big eyes. Little chibi big eyes of ...

Oh, whatever.

* * *

Two chibis into a cart, and away we go. My, what a merry adventure, goddammit.

"Now Gojyo, you must be quiet. There would be all kinds of trouble if we were caught."

"Like me getting a free ride to the asylum." It sounds better every time I consider the options. Quiet, free food, drugs to make little things like this go away...

My thoughts drift fondly back to the bottle in my trunk as I push the cart and my oddly vocal jacket into the store.

Alcohol, oh how I love thee. Let me count the -

"Vegetables we'll need..." Thank you, Mr. Jacket. You are ever a source of help and inspiration.

* * *

Idling up and down the aisles, ignoring the occasional hand snaking out to pick up items, my mind wonders to other topics. What would really happen if they were caught? Would they be taken to Area 41 or 57 or whatever? Forced to do Chibi-Reconnaisance in Afghanistan? Hugged to death by a crowd of hormonal housewives?

Hm. Is there a way out of this mess...?

* * *

Gojyo grabs a woman's bottom as the cart goes by her. She turns with a yelp to glare at me. Yet, I am on the other side of the cart, holding a sizable zucchini in both hands. Also, I am female. Why wouldn't I just spare myself the effort and grab my own ass, ma'am?

She appears to add up the same mental arithmetic and moves on to the tune of:  
"Must have been... hooked on something."

"Right."

"My, those tomatoes are fresh!" my jacket pipes up in a falsetto voice.

I hit it.

With the zucchini, and considerable force.

"Ow!" says my jacket.

There is rum in my car. Why am I here, again?

"Um. Let's just get this over with as quickly as possible." Says the suspiciously Hakkai-shaped lettuce, a safe distance from my jacket.

"Mrfgl," says my jacket. Or perhaps that is the zucchini talking, as the zucchini remains on top.

* * *

At last, the lettuce pronounces judgment. "I think that's everything from here."

"Good."

I turn the cart to face into a secluded back corner of the store.

"Excuse me... I think the checkout is the other way." The lettuce seems concerned.

A furtive glance confirms that no one is looking my way.

With reflexes honed by years of trying to catch my kitty, I whip into action.

Move jacket. Grab Gojyo by his cute little ankles. Hold him upside down. Shake vigorously.

Items previously secreted about his person form a pile on the floor only slightly smaller than the chibi himself.

"Hey! That's my..."

Drop cussing Chibi into the cart. Kick pile under shelf. Ignore the abusive language the apples have just learned. Desperately try to ignore the lettuce tying and gagging the apples. The lettuce then seats itself on top of the apples as a further restraint and gives me a look of leafy empathy.

"Sorry about that. I obviously wasn't watching him carefully enough."

"Hm."

"Mrfgl-Wstfgl!" claims the apples, but I wouldn't believe it.

* * *

Prior to approaching the cashier, the lettuce voices a little concern. "I realize that you are allergic to cigarettes, but I really must say your life is likely to be endangered much more if we _don't_ pick some up. They may be small, and currently not very well armed, but Sanzo and Gojyo can be very mean when they..."

"No."

"Mrrf!"

"Perhaps we can convince them to smoke outside." The apples nod so vigorously that one comes free.

"I'm not buying them." The apples look up at me with enormous eyes. "Forget it." The eyes begin to fill with a liquid that forms huge, glistening balls. "That's not going to work on me." A huge snot bubble forms, causing me to swear off eating apples for the duration of this hallucination.

"Mrrf-waaaaah! Mrf mrf mrf..." The sob of one facing heartless nicotine depravation makes me wince. Hakkai unties Gojyo and gives him a little 'there, there' and pat on the back. The Kappa continues to bawl, and I push the cart against a wall and whistle "Waltzing Matilda" loudly in an effort to cover the histrionics.

I can't take this any more.

* * *

"Screw it. I'll buy you a couple of packages of Nicorettes."

"But!"

"That's the best you're going to get! It's that, or I hand you over to... someone! Mall Security! Men in White Coats!"

"Nicorettes are fine, for now."

"Right." To the Pharmacy we go.

"And a couple of packages of condoms!"

* * *

_Blink.

* * *

_

The laughter wells up from within like a noisy form of indigestion. Its unstoppable might causes me to lose my grip on the cart, pushing it noisily into a display of tissue boxes. Several rain down upon the startled Chibis.

I quell the snorting enough to breathe.

"For what? To use as rain hats? They'd be perfect little rain hats for you?" Get out of this tissue box maze. Get out of here. There's rum in my car, and once that car is parked at my house I will consume enough of its contents that this will either cease to matter or begin to make sense.

"... hee hee... rain hats!" I can't hold it in, I really can't.

"Hey..." Gojyo looks vaguely offended. When I can see him, that is, through the tears flooding down my cheeks.

A woman stops to help. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yes! Yes, I'm fine. Just here for some Nicorettes and Rain Hats!"

"Oh. Right, then."

Something in her expression as she backs away calms me down almost immediately. While free food and drugs have their appeal, I'd prefer it if you didn't call the Men in White Coats after all, ma'am. Thanks all the same.

Grab a few boxes of Nicorettes from the Pharmacy. Run through the till, paying as fast as possible, only half aware of the Chibis sneaking ninja-style under the counter.

"Let's get the hell out of here." Grumble the radishes, still offended by my comments on Chibi proportions.

"Yes, lets!" I wholeheartedly agree.

Yes, lets.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Another warm, fuzzy, chibi thanks to all who commented! I write much faster when I know that people are reading it. I raised the rating because this episode contained the word 'condom', and I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Of course, if you're looking for anything that's Saiyuki related, I figure you should be expecting that kind of stuff... I mean, Gojyo? 

CT: Never fear, The Cat will appear... eventually.

Next time: The Return!


	6. Part 6: In Which Drinking is Delayed

**When Chibis Attack!  
**

**Part 6: In Which Drinking is Delayed **

Pulling into the weed-lined driveway brings on feelings of intense foreboding. The windows are dark and ominous, lighted by occasional flickers of unexplained movement. Instinctive reluctance to approach the obviously suspicious is only overcome by the nauseated desire to get away from the Idiot and Straight Man act playing on the back seat of the car.

I make for the door lugging the shopping bags, rum tenderly but securely tucked under my arm.

The wind howls in the eaves.

No, wait. That's not the wind...

* * *

The now-familiar sound of chibi voices come through the door as a muffled echo. 

("For crying out loud SHUT UP, you stupid youkai)  
("You're going to be soooo embarrassed when you get back to normal, Kougaiji!")

* * *

Sick fascination draws me to the door like a salmon with a hook in its cheek. The howling grows unbelievably louder as I approach. 

("Maybe you should hit him with something)  
("You hit him)  
("I can't... He's too cute.")

The curse words that undoubtedly follow are drowned out by inconsolable wailing.

* * *

There is a puddle on my front step. It appears to be dripping from inside the house. It had better be water. 

("Kougaiji, you're going to be so embarrassed you won't even talk to _yourself_ for a week!")

Key in the lock.

An image of Gojyo's earlier enormous snot bubble leaps into my head. Think again.

Carefully unpack one of the providential tissue boxes. They may have been an 'accidental' purchase, but I am now certain they have a purpose in my life...

Key in the lock.

("They're home! Sanzo, they're home)  
("If he doesn't shut up now, I'll definitely kill him.")

Tissue box defense engaged. Open the damn door.

* * *

My front entranceway has been sand-bagged with towels and paper towels, spare sheets and overgrown dust-bunnies. In the middle of a deep pool of (thankfully) clear, odorless saltwater sits Chibi Kougaiji. He is doing an incredible impersonation of a Chibi Fountain. 

Tears pour out of his scrunched-up eyes at a rate more appropriate for a mechanical faucet than a biological orifice.

* * *

As I set the groceries on High Ground, the Realism Center of my brain lights up like the Service Engine Before it Breaks dial on my car. 

If he had lost that much blood, he would definitely be dead. Yet, how could an assumed mammal have more of any body fluid than blood? Still, he continues to gush at a rate that could be measured in cubic centimeters per second. Pressure gauges come to mind.

* * *

I wonder if the government has a number in the book to call at times like this? 'The Department of Aliens and Stuff Like That, please leave a message after the tone...' 

Imagine the technical applications for this! Little turbines could run on this seemingly endless supply of hot saltwater. Or perhaps there's a way to harness the noise energy in that painfully loud howl...?

Except...

Except no one could do it.

* * *

My own mother says I have no heart. I do not collect cute things, or paint pictures of fairies. I do not go to movies where Baby Kittens find their Mummies. 

But still...

...---...

Poor little guy.

...---...

Take off shoes, roll up pant-legs. Step in.

"Come on, then."

* * *

The sudden end of the howling actually brings into focus just how loud it really was. Like stepping into the eye of a hurricane, a huge force ends and the calm seems almost surreal. Or, at least, slightly more surreal than being surrounded by one foot tall caricatures of fictional characters. 

Kougaiji's snotty little face blinks up at me through runny eyes.

"...sniiiIIIIFFFF..." There is a vague suggestion of the possibility that the bawling may begin anew.

My Check Reality Soon light burns intensely for a moment, then makes a _plink_ noise and goes dark.

Poor little guy.

...---...

"Who wants a hug?" Was that my voice?

"Me!"

* * *

It is a very odd situation to be in when having a snotty, damp, super-deformed youkai hanging from the front of one's shirt is an improvement. 

I only have a moment to consider this, and to wonder why Kougaiji's response seemed to be echoed by several other little voices. This time limitation may be for the best.

Concentration. I need concentration. And a Mop.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Poor guy just wants his Mummy. 

Illustrations are now available: My profile links to them.

Spot the Cock-eyed Reference: Idiot and Straight Man Tsukomi and Boke from any Kansai Boke act.

Rubics: Never fear, if you end up in an asylum you will get this story from the voices in your head. And the grammar will be better.

...---... is only used because the document editor eats my '...'


	7. Part 7: In Which There is Gum

**When Chibis Attack!**

**Part 7: In Which There is Gum**

Chibi Sanzo has already rifled the shopping bags. One remaining in his adorable little paw, he looks up at me.

"Where the hell are my cigarettes?"

Shifting Kougaiji around to one side ("Wuv you!"), I rifle the bags myself.

"Here." He catches the Nicorettes, showing surprising agility for such a short, round little fellow.

"What the hell?"

"Nicotine in gum form. This way we both get to keep breathing."

Out comes the little gun.

"Not for long."

"Kiss and Hugson's Saturday Morning Special" holds no terror for me. I am but a glass away from a considerable quantity of alcohol.

"Do you really think the little flag will say something different this time?"

Chibi Sanzo is momentarily mute with rage. I choose to live in the moment.

* * *

Chii-Goku has attached sponges to the end of the Nyoi-Bo and is vigorously sweeping water out of my front door. At some point I will have to convince nosey neighbors that a pipe burst in my front entrance. This will be much easier than convincing them that I am capable of doing anything vigorously. However, none of this is a problem that I can't avoid by drinking copious amounts of sugarcane-derived beverage. 

Which reminds me...

* * *

Lil' Hakkai has begun the laborious task of dragging the shopping bags into the kitchen. Gojyo, in his own impression of 'helping', is trying to find a way to transport a bottle of rum that weighs more than he does. 

I relieve him of that burden.

"Sweet! Ready to Party?" The little Kappa celebrates around my ankles.

"No."

"What!"

"Go get your own."

"What the hell?" His little hackles raise, and the antennae twitch in irritation. "You know, you're really starting to bug me, and I never thought I'd say that to a girl with breasts the size of my head..."

"You have a very small head."

Oh no... the image is back...

"Rain hats! Bwa ha ha ..." I can't hold in the snort. Little multi-colored, oddly shaped bad weather gear... mrrf...

Another chibi is now momentarily mute with anger. I know it can't last long, but oh what bliss!

* * *

Kougaiji under one arm ("I wuv you!"), the bottle under the other, and into the kitchen for a glass. 

Goku and Hakkai pass me, a pair of shopping bags efficiently suspended between them on the Nyoi-Bo.

* * *

Sanzo, having recovered from his vocal paralysis, appears at my knee. He is waving the Nicorettes. 

"I can't use these. I need cigarettes."

"The gum really is the same. You chew it, you become less irritable. Like rum, only you don't swallow."

"I don't care, I can't use it." He tosses them away. Gojyo catches the packet and starts fiddling with the foil bubbles, cursing mildly at the chibi-finger-frustrating glue.

"Why not?"

The Silence of the Knees. Perhaps he couldn't hear over the clatter of Chibi Hakkai and Chibi Goku grappling with pots and pans, engaging in a culinary Dance of Death on the stove top. I hope they are wearing fire-resistant clothes.

I speak up a little for the benefit of his cute little ears.

"Why not?"

* * *

The silence persists. As if pulled around by a finger up my nose, I turn to look at the twitching chibi. 

He is looking intently at his little, round feet.

"...mumble mumble mumble..." he says.

* * *

_Blink.

* * *

_

I try to rewind my brain. It doesn't quite work, but I could still swear that he just said '_mumble_' three times.

I look at Kougaiji for confirmation.

"Heeeee..."

I look at the rum bottle for...

I really need a drink.

* * *

Oh hell. I just _have_ to ask.

* * *

"Did you just say, 'Mumble mumble mumble'?" 

Sanzo ceases inspecting his sandals with the speed of a cheetah on crack. His beet-red face glares up at me.

"It gets stuck in my hair, alright! Now go get me some goddamn _cigarettes_!

* * *

_Blink.

* * *

_

"Mumble mumble?" I repeat, still stuck on the first conversational speed bump.

"Dinner is just about ready, Sanzo. I'm sure you can wait just a little longer." Hakkai calls from the stove top.

Goku sits atop the coffee maker, using the Nyoi-Bo to stir the contents of a pot. Something in the back of my head declares this unsanitary and marks the contents as inedible. Another part of me declares that the weight of the food on the table and stove is larger than the weight of the chibis combined. Even if they were hollow, all that food couldn't fit inside of them. Is Hakkai expecting guests? Large guests?

"Cheer up, Sanzo... It's not that hard to get the hang of." Gojyo mooches into the kitchen, mangled package in hand. He blows an enormous bubble, snaps it loudly and resumes chewing.

The bubble reminds me to stay away from the apples. Oh, the horrible apples...

"You think this is funny, you perverted Kappa?"

Two chibis fight in a ball of dust, knees and elbows on my kitchen floor. Two other chibis calmly stir pans on the stove.

"Are you sure it's not ready yet, Hakkai?"

"You know I'll tell you when it's ready, Goku."

"I know." Pause. "But I'm so huuuuuuuungry..."

"Not quite yet, Goku."

"Are you sure there's enough?"

"Four times your weight, plus allowances for the wear and tear of cuteness and hugs... minus what you nicked from the fridge while we were gone..."

"But I was so huuuuuungryy..."

"Ah! It's almost ready!"

"Hooray!"

* * *

I reach for a glass. 

"I wuv you!" says my left elbow.

I reach for a big glass.

"Goddamn it!" hollers a suddenly paused combatant. A Time Out appears to have been called.

"It's in my hair! It's in my goddamn hair! I'm going to _kill_ you, you worthless Kappa!"

"It's in my hair too, crap-faced monk! If you hadn't hit me in the head..."

"_You're_ the one who got that stupid gum!"

"That was _her_!"

Four enormous, glaring eyes focus on me. Gojyo and Sanzo are now Siamese Gum Twins, joined at the hair. Triplets if you count the refrigerator door, which they are also attached to.

I reach for a pint glass.

* * *

"Now, now, calm down everyone. We're lucky that she's helped us at all. She could have turned us over to Men in White Coats, or Hormonal Housewives. We have to be grateful and deal with these sticky situations ourselves, ha ha ha." 

Hakkai is advancing on the pair of chibis with a ridiculously gigantic pair of scissors. Unable to flee their sticky bonds, they cower together against the fridge door.

"I'm sure we can get it out with soap, Hakkai!"

"Or peanut butter!"

"Goku ate all the peanut butter," I had peanut butter? I didn't know I had peanut butter... "And you know, the longer we wait, the more hair I'll have to cut off."

"No! Not the hair!"

* * *

Lift bottle. Study contents, volume information. Do a little math. Remove cap. Drink.

* * *

"Um. I'm sorry, but shouldn't you eat a little something with that?" Hakkai looks up from terrorizing his fellow chibis with the Mega-Scissors. The sticky pair are being surprisingly imaginative and cooperative in removing their own gum. 

"No thanks!" I cheerfully reply. "I find food interferes with the drunkimifying process, delaying the onset of unconsciousness."

There is a momentary, thoughtful pause.

"Oh well. I suppose you won't want any pie then."

* * *

_Blink_.

* * *

"Pie?" 

"I didn't know we had pie!" Goku looks up at Hakkai.

"That's why we still have it... It's pumpkin, by the way."

"Pie."

Perhaps I can make room for pie.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Notes: 

Ridiculous Fluffy Chibis for all the people who added this to their favorites or reviewed. It makes me go all sparkly-eyed... then whack myself in the head until my vision returns to normal.

Kougaiji hugs to those who checked out the illustrations. Good luck shaking him off.

Blood-Debt: You have an idiot following you as well? I thought I was the only one...

Goddessiris: Now you know.

Next Time: A Brief Change in Perspective!


	8. Part 8: In Which a Felony is Committed

**When Chibis Attack! Part 8**

**In Which a Felony is Committed**

Eventually, it is discovered that alcohol is an excellent solvent, helping dissolve gum as well as problems.

Eventually, it is discovered that the same super-deformed physics that allow Kougaiji to have more tears than blood also allow Goku to contain a greater mass of food than... well, than volume of Goku. NASA is not called for comment.

Eventually there is no more pie.

* * *

And, eventually, the relatively law-abiding segment of the group fall into what passes for sleep. 

Meanwhile, a pair of nicotine-deprived miniatures have concocted a plan.

Desperation makes for strange plans.

* * *

"A carton of Marlboro Red and a carton of Hi-Lites." 

Mr. Clerk has worked the midnight shift at the 7-11 for more years than the sum total of his schooling. He makes slightly better wages than his cousin, Mr. M. Wage-Clerk at the liquor store. He tries not to let it go to his head.

Nevertheless, experience has taught him to identify the underage with the speed of a chat-room pervert.

"ID, kid."

"I'm not a bloody kid. Here's my gold card. Is that ID enough, old man?"

Mr. Clerk feels that the odd shape in a long coat is a prime example of what happens when kids don't have enough After School Activities, like Part-Time Jobs. He feels, deep within himself, the altruistic urge to Set Things Straight.

The Straightening begins with The Sigh.

* * *

"Listen, kid. I know what it's like. I started smoking young myself, and it took me the better part of my life to quite." 

"That's nice. See the card?"

"Sometimes I would "borrow" my parents money... or their cards." He makes the Ear Bunnies of Quoting. Ear Bunnies naturally follow The Sigh in his pattern of oratory.

"I mean, look at you. I can tell you're standing on another kid's shoulders. And you're istill/i not as tall as a grade-schooler..." Mr. Clerk's Check Reality light has been worn down by too many graveyard shifts and past-expiry hoagies. Still, it flickers a feeble warning. "How old are you kids, anyway?"

* * *

The top figure in the long coat Has Had Enough. He grabs the counter in one pudgy hand and whips out a small silver gun. The bottom figure curses and wobbles at the sudden movement. 

"Look. It's been a long day, and I _need_ a goddamn cigarette. Hand them over, pops. _Now_."

* * *

Mr. Clerk has worked the midnight shift long enough to recognize almost all modern weaponry, and some of the ancient classics. He has America's Most Wanted on speed-dial, just in case. He gives due consideration to the gun, noting the delightful heart motif on the side. 

The Sigh is invoked again.

"Kiss and Hugson, eh? Put it down, kid. I'm calling your mom. Both of your mothers. I'm surprised little guys like you are out at this time of night." Mr. Clerk notes that the little gun is now shaking, and chalks one up to the Fear of God having been put back into a Troubled Child. Being unfamiliar with Buddhist Monks, he is not in a position to grasp the irony of this thought.

As he turns his back to the counter and picks up the phone, neither is he in a position to see two Chibis climbing onto the counter, rolling up their sleeves.

His last, unintentionally humorous, words are:

"Really, I blame television..."

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Spot the cock-eyed reference: ID - the title of Saiyuki Reload ending theme. 

To my knowledge, neither of the two possess driver's licenses. It's not like Sanzo could give the man his Monking License.

Fresh Illustration available from Summoner Rekka! Available from my profile.


	9. Part 9: In Which Dawn Ascends

Not-claiming-'er: Minekura owns Saiyuki. Jonathan Swift owns Gulliver. You may own a flashlight. I own one, and you can't have it. 

**When Chibis Attack! Part 9**

**In Which Dawn Ascends**

The Sun is the Divine Flashlight.

Yes, the dawn is the Great Security Man in the Sky, his Flashlight in hand, as he finds you curled up and drunk along his beat. The Sun is his unwavering Flashlight, suggesting that you had better move along or there will be Trouble.

The Sun is shining though a tiny hole in the blinds _right_ into my eyes.

* * *

Like Gulliver in Lilliputia, I can't quite move. Tilt head, focus eyes.

* * *

The first thing that catches my eye is my underwear drawer. Pulled almost entirely out, there is red hair and a little hand hanging out of it. This does not bode well, Reality-wise. 

Next Visual Stop: Two Drawers Down. My sock drawer is likewise almost off the runners, with two feet sticking out the top. Judging by the apparent lack of socks _in_ the drawer, its occupant is an active sleeper. Violently active.

My feet have amiable company. Hakkai has found a tiny pillow and borrowed a hand towel to make a chibi camp-bed at the foot of mine.

Sanzo, on the other hand, must have taken the pillow right out from under my head, the little bastard. He has turned the pillow into a cushy chibi-bed fit for a king. It is a precious source of vengeful joy to see that the socks that Goku has tossed in his nightly ramblings have landed on the sleepless mini-monk like wooly missiles of justice.

That only leaves one unaccounted for.

* * *

Reach over shoulder. Remove Kougaiji from hair. 

"Meep!"

* * *

What is with those bloody nightcaps? Do the outsized heads get abnormally cold? 

I mean, color-coded pyjamas to avoid mix-ups I can understand, but the nightcaps are really pushing it. What possible purpose could the little pom-pom on the end serve?

* * *

"I..." The Little Prince begins. 

"Hold it."

"Mrrf?"

"Do you have anything to say that doesn't involve your opinion of me?"

This question appears to require serious enough thought to shut down the remainder of Kougaiji's brain.

Run! Run while you still can!

* * *

I make it _almost_ to the door. 

"When's breakfast? I'm staaaaaarving..." There go the rest of my socks.

"I hope everyone slept well." Hakkai pulls on fuzzy bunny slippers and passes by my knees on the way to the kitchen, presumable to put the coffee on.

"Sweet Mother of Mercy! Look at all these Panties! Heaven has Lace!"

There is a brief, smothering pause.

"Well at lease _someone_ slept well," grumbles Sanzo from beneath the pile of socks.

* * *

Bathroom. I need the bathroom. If for no other reason than the lock on the door.

* * *

I carefully avoid the mirror; usually a wise idea in the morning. This morning, not so wise. 

There are five tiny toothbrushes in a cup on the counter. They have little handles and outsized heads. They also are color-coded for easy identification, which strikes me as an even better idea than the jammies.

In an effort to get away from the ridiculous cuteness, my eyes wander up to the mirror - only to spot sleepy-eyed Kougaiji climbing onto the counter.

I look at the shut door.

He must have been... attached... to me somehow.

I look at the sleepy chibi.

He yawns hugely: an enormous mouth, full of pointy teeth.

* * *

"You can't be in here right now." 

Big sleepy eyes blink up at me. The nightcap pom-pom bobbles.

"I need a shower. So you can't be... here."

The enormous eyes blink again. There is processing going on.

Suddenly it hits me: the memory of The Bawling.

Oh hell... what have I done?

Blink blink, go the Chibis eyes.

The mouth opens.

"Good Mowning!"

* * *

_Sigh_.

* * *

I should not be required to use my brain this early in the morning. Need shower. Must remove über-chibi first. Salt works on leeches, duct tape on warts, rum on... 

I open the bathroom door, absently heading in the direction of the rum.

Gojyo is outside the door, attempting to work a cordless power drill. Thankfully this has proved nigh-impossible for the Littlest Pervert. This may be because he has replaced his night cap with a pair of panties which keep falling over his eyes, or it may be because his fluffy teddy bear is still clenched firmly under one arm.

* * *

_Bingo_!

* * *

Toothpaste foam has made Kougaiji, Fierce and Noble Youkai Prince look rather rabid, as I pick him up off the counter. He spontaneously hug-attaches, but I think I know a cure... 

"Ah! It's not what it looks like! I was just holding this for... uh... Goku!" Goku, headed in the general direction of breakfast, has a power drill dropped on him.

"What the hell? What are you doing, you perverted Kappa?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all! And you should really stop trying to look in at ladies who are showering."

"Me? Why would I..."

* * *

I pull Kougaiji off my shirt. 

"Meep!"

"Kougaiji, I can you do me a favor?"

Against all biological possibility, his big eyes grow even bigger. Chubby shoulders square, and he snaps to Chibi-Attention.

"Anyfing!"

* * *

Gojyo and Goku are now trying to back away as inconspicuously as possible. 

"I want to take a shower, but Gojyo is going to try to peep on me." ("Wasn't me! That's totally unproven!") "I want you to stop him, and anyone else, from disturbing me. You got that?"

"I wuv you!"

"I'll take that as a yes."

I set the Little Prince on the ground, slightly disturbed by the steely concentration in his sparkly eyes, and close the door.

* * *

The next thirty minutes are pure aquatic peace, punctuated only by the occasional thumps, screams and assorted ominous noises. These are easily ignores. After all, I have a cat.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Bladder: "über" is a cool word... tee hee... 

Thanks to all... I think the only person who doesn't love Sanzo's gun is... uh... Sanzo.

Don't forget to check out the new illustration linked from my profile.


	10. Part 10: In Which Which Witch is Which?

Disclaimer: I do not own Hello Kitty. If I did, I would be rich enough to pay pretty men to dress up like Minekura's Saiyuki characters and fly around the world on my private jet. Perhaps we would visit Mr.T, who I presume owns himself.

* * *

**When Chibis Attack! **

**Part 10: In Which Which Witch is Which?**

There is a heavenly smell of frying bacon and fresh coffee creeping under the door. Clean, and wearing snot-free clothing for the first time in twelve hours, life seems to be looking up.

But bacon rarely fries itself. Therefore, the kitchen is either full of exploding pigs or my chronic hallucinations are about to begin again.

I thought it was toast you were supposed to smell, not bacon...

Opening the door confirms my suspicions.

* * *

Gojyo is bound and gagged and hanging from the hall light fixture. 

"Mrrfk mrrmrrphu! Meph rown! Mrrf!"

Kougaiji has been loyally patrolling the hallway. He spots me and snaps a little salute.

"Miffion Accompliffed!"

Duty done, he runs to me with arms outstretched and a little cry of "Wuv you!" and proceeds to climb my leg.

I poke Gojyo. He swings a little.

"Mrrfink _mrfrr_!"

"I'm sure."

I'm glad I can't understand a word he's mrrfing as I head for the kitchen.

* * *

Sanzo is back on the table, drinking a demitasse of coffee and reading a very small newspaper. Large, sparkly eyes would be needed to decipher most of the very small print on it. Closer inspection reveals it to be _The Chibi Times_. 

Did he have it brought in special? From where? Lollipop Land?

* * *

Pull up a chair, sit. Try to ignore the physically improbable amounts of food that Goku the Compactor is shovelling down. Without Gojyo for competition he seems without limits. I fear for my table. 

"How are you this morning?" chirps Hakkai, as I attempt to fill my stomach (once again empty of alcohol) with nice, fresh caffeine. "I hope we didn't disturb you too much in the night."

"Ugh." I reply with eloquence.

Kougaiji hops onto the table in pursuit of breakfast, and his little 'poit' noise is accompanied by a resounding 'thud' from the hallway. Markedly clearer cursing follows.

"Ah! It looks like he's finally gotten himself free." Hakkai muses and dishes a plate for Gojyo.

* * *

Gojyo, however, doesn't appear to be in the mood for breakfast, as he stomps into the room and climbs onto the table. Little fists balled, big round bump and 'X' shaped bandage on his head, he seems more in the mood for... a vicious game of dominoes. It's hard to look tough when you're chibi. 

He stomps over to Kougaiji, who is absently polishing an oversized apple from the fruit bowl. Gojyo points a finger and begins:

"You and I are gonna..."

Satisfied with his cleaning job, Kougaiji hefts the apple in both hands and...

* * *

Proportionally, there's no way his mouth could be that big. There would be no room for a brain, or even those inflated eyes. His jaws seem to open almost a full 180 degrees; surely the top of his head should come off? And I'm absolutely certain that there's no light source in my kitchen that could give his (many, scary, sharp) teeth a point shine, and even _then,_ point shines don't go 'ting'... 

The apple is decimated: unnumbered fangs pulp core, stem and all like a Hello Kitty garbage disposal.

* * *

Gojyo grabs his plate and sits. 

"I slept like a log last night!" he claims brightly.

Smart little guy, I'll give him that.

* * *

While sipping coffee, one must have something to look at. For lack of a saner option, _The Chibi Times_ draws closer inspection. Some of the headlines are big enough to read... 

"Sparkly Eyes and Healthy Vision."

"Round is In!"

"Chibis Protest Decline in Hugs!"

The last one comes with a photo of chibis with signboards reading: "Hug Me!","Chibi Love 4 Ever!" and "Chibi Hugs Make the Whole World Happy!"

I glance over the paper at Little Grumpy Monk.

He squints up at me: "What's your problem?"

"Nuffink." I mutter. Coffee, coffee, cofee... dee dah dum... reality is my friend, reality is my friend...

* * *

"It's sad, really." Hakkai speaks next to my ear, almost making me spill. Since when does _he_ sit on my shoulder? Sneaky, soft-footed creeps, using me as furniture... 

"Decline in hugs..." he tsks. "It's a shame."

"I could sure use more hugs from pretty ladies!" Gojyo sprays around a mouthful.

"Maybe if you stopped stealing their panties..."

"Oh, come on. Every chibi needs hugs."

"I like hugs!" Goku matches food spray for food spray.

* * *

Again, I sit a little straighter and glance over the paper at Sanzo. 

Again, he glares up at me, "You looking at me, punk?"

"No, no... I pity the fool who does that."

* * *

The Real Paper. The one that talks about Reality. I need it! 

Someone has hidden it behind the fruit bowl.

* * *

The splash headline reads: "Toddlers Rob 7-11!" 

The picture below shows a man cocooned in rope from shoulder to toe, with a note taped to his head.

"BAKA" says the note.

"Who or what is 'BAKA'? Police are investigating gang connections." says the caption.

"Yoink!" says the paper as it's whipped out of my hands.

"Hey! I was reading that..." But my protests are useless. Sanzo is already using it to beat Gojyo and Goku, whose argument about who should get more hugs had gotten out of hand. The spray of food accompanying each shout had begun to cake on the combatants, and the paper now shares this nauseating decoration. I would like to preserve my status as free of all chibi body fluids for as long as possible today, so you can keep that paper now, thanks all the same, you rotten, paper-thieving mini-monk...

* * *

Calm. Must remain calm. Perhaps if I am boring, they will go away. Ha ha.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

I'm going to buy Summoner Rekka a subscription to The Chibi Times... 

Go see the new illustration by **Lou Blue**. Copy and Paste the link from my profile.

Next time: Work. Scary stuff. Monkeys!


	11. Part 11: In Which There is Fire

**When Chibis Attack!**

**Part 11: In Which There is Fire**

"I have to work." Saying it out loud doesn't seem to improve my odds of doing it. Still, it's somewhat comforting to hear a voice that isn't coming from knee-level.

Disengage from the kitchen table. Attach to the desk in front room. Idly pick up files, open, close. Drink coffee.

* * *

Is someone watching me? This eerie feeling is stopping me from pretending to concentrate...

Oh. Right.

* * *

Kougaiji, Heir of the Ox King, is sitting on the floor staring up at me with adoring eyes.

Try to work.

Damnit, that's not working.

Turn on computer. Stare at screen.

Huge liquid eyes, staring like a lobotomized teddy bear.

* * *

_I can't take this anymore._   
_

* * *

_

"Squee!" goes the chair as I grab an empty cardboard shipping box.

Upturn box. Drop over Kougaiji.

Problem solved. Back to work.

* * *

Pick up folders, open, close...

The box begins to wander around the room, bumping into things.

Stare at the screen. Move mouse.

* * *

The box stops in the center of the room and starts emitting odd noises. This is easy to ignore: I have a cat. Cats make all manner of odd noises. They do not, it should be noted, stare at one with adoring eyes. It's just not their thing; whereas noises are well within their specialization.

The box noises stop abruptly.

"Engo-cutie!"

* * *

The box explodes and a fiery monster roars around the room. It would be a very scary monster, if it were more than a foot and a half tall and didn't have long eyelashes on all three eyes. Cuteness aside, its explosive appearance scatters bits of flaming box on various flammable objects around the room before it vanishes with a little puff of smoke.

I spend a moment considering whether to let the place burn down and hope it takes the little buggers with it. In that time, the other chibis appear in little fireman outfits, and put out the flames using a plant mister and ornamental watering can.

My executive house-burning decision is no longer needed.

* * *

Kougaiji plops down in the center of the room.

"...snnnnniiiiiiiifffff..."

Emergency! Emergency! Bawl detected! Howling Flood! Must avert Typhoon Chibi!

"Whoops! Ha ha, didn't see you there. Sorry about that..." Grab forlorn chibi.

"Sniiiiii..." Obviously the regular remedies will not be enough to combat the oncoming tantrum. My limited experience with children tells me that at this point I can either make him feel useful...

... and end up with nothing done at all, and possibly the place on fire...

... or I can bribe.

For children and government employees, the odds of 'bribery to go away' versus 'being at all useful' come up heavily in favor of the graft.

* * *

Carry snotty (_explosive?_) chibi into kitchen. Grab cushion from chair, cookie from jar.

Back to desk: cushion on top of pile of folders.

Hug chibi.

"Heeee..." Try not the feel silly.

(Try not to smile.)

((Feel silly for trying not to smile...))

Put chibi on cushion, insert cookie.

"Munch, munch, munch..."

Apparently all is forgiven.

* * *

Since when do I have a cookie jar?

Forget it. _Try_ to work.

* * *

Finish checking e-mail...

Something jumps into my lap.

Kougaiji is asleep, drooling on the folders. He is, therefore, not on my lap.

I love my kitty. She is a very good kitty, as cats go.

Scratch soft fuzz behind the pointy ears. Purring commences.

All is well with the world.

Work in relative peace.

Forget to scratch for a moment. Soft head nudges my hand, claws knead my leg. Resume scritches of ears.

* * *

"Eek!"

They have me well trained. I can no longer ignore screaming, no matter how much I want to.

Goku is peeking out from under the ottoman, staring at my lap. He is shaking like an ancient Chihuahua in a snowstorm.

Glance at Kougaiji: Definitely Sleeping.

Look at lap.

* * *

Chibi Youkai Hakkai looks up at me and smiles widely. He has a lot of jagged teeth. I have a Gremlins flashback.

While he's quite scary to look at, it is still more disturbing that he is still cute. How? Powerful thing, this 'Chibiness'.

My hand reflexively continues to scratch his ears.

* * *

"Ah, Goku..." Youkai Hakkai intones.

"Eek!" Goku sounds just like a little monkey.

"Have you found where my limiters went yet?"

"Um... here!" Goku runs up, tosses the little earring onto the desk and scoots back under the ottoman with the speed of a cat that knows it's vet time.

"Thank you." Hakkai slips the limiters back on, and returns to normal with a little puff of smoke and sparkle. "Sorry about that. Goku took my limiters off..."

"It was accidentally on purpose!"

"You really should think before you act." Hakkai scolds from my lap. Goku stares at the floor and shuffles his feet. "Now we'll have to get the nice lady a new ottoman... and a chair, too, it looks like. Funny, I don't remember doing that one..."

"Oh, no." I observe absently. "It was like that. The cat, you know."

"Ah. I see."

"I'm sorry." says Goku.

"Don't worry about it," I say, idly tapping the mouse. "At least the furniture matches now."

* * *

A few minutes of blessed silence, broken only by Kougaiji's little snores.

"Um... sorry? I really should get the kitchen cleaned up. You could stop scratching my ears now if that's alright..." Hakkai approaches the subject gently.

"Oh. Right."

"Though that was very nice. Thank you."

"No problem."

Chibi Not-So-Youkai Hakkai gives me a hug before leaping down. I'm not sure if the whole world is happier. It seems to make him happy, anyway. But then, he seems like a cheerful little guy.

* * *

...I really don't remember buying a cookie jar. Cookies come in packages made of sturdy foil and plastic as it is. Why would I do all that work to re-package something I'm just going to eat anyway?

Whatever. Work!

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Thank you so much for your thoughts and compliments, though I'm afraid I'll have to appreciatively decline the offer of marriage... Please, feel free to review again! It makes the whole world happy... um. Yes.

Next Time: Thwack!


	12. Part 12: In Which Someone is Hurt

** When Chibis Attack!  
**

**Part 12: In Which Someone is Hurt  
**

"Thwack!" goes the fan, smacking Goku's head. Sanzo has entered the room.

"Ow!" Apparently Goku's head doesn't like this treatment.

"Ah, Sanzo. So you've already heard about what Goku did, then." Hakkai asks on his way out to the kitchen.

"Huh?" Sanzo stares blankly for a moment, then blinks. "Uh... yeah." Looks at Goku: "Don't do it again."

"But!"

"Thwack!" repeats the fan, this time with a sense of purpose.

"Ow!"

* * *

Problem solved. Except: 

Sanzo is wrapped in a little purple towel. A purple shower cap is attempting to contain his fluffy chibi hair. I wonder where the chibis are keeping all of this luggage? Inside Goku? He certainly seems to have some kind of compression device or pocket universe inside of him, at least where food is involved...

But that's just nasty.

* * *

"I'm taking a shower." 

"I won't run the dishwasher until you're out." Calls Hakkai from the kitchen.

"And make sure you wash your mouth out, you filthy monk!"

Sanzo whips around and flings the fan overhand with enviable precision. It embeds in the wall next to Gojyo's head, sending him flying for cover behind a chair. Soap-worthy cussing ensues.

* * *

"You're standing guard, Goku." Sanzo is apparently concerned about peeking. Or perhaps the idea of someone else having a shower guard when he doesn't incites a bit of competition. Either way, it makes my visual horizon more believable and less insane by a factor of two. Hurrah! 

"But!" Apparently Goku has other plans.

"Thwack!" How can Sanzo handle that fan with such grace when it's as long as he is tall?

Wait... the fan is still in the wall near Gojyo... Where did that... How did he get...

Don't think! Thinking makes it worse!

* * *

I look at my coffee cup. My torn up ottoman. My drool-dampened folders. 

I drink the coffee.

Work. Snoring Chibi paperweights, bad karaoke from the bathroom, Gojyo taunting Goku and ... work.

For the first time in my life, work looks like the best option.

* * *

And for once, I _can_ work! I can really work! Oh, Bliss! Oh, Glee! Oh... 

The doorbell begins to ring. It rings with an odd, semi-rhythmic quality, as could be made by a small, vaguely intelligent dog jumping up to hit the bell with its nose.

"...crap." This word has a strange pronunciation as it leaves my mouth: resembling ship or whit, and not crap at all. Chalk it up to solar particles. Crazy things, solar particles.

* * *

Dislodge from desk. Apply hand to doorknob and open door without joy. Examine doorstep visitor. 

It stops jumping and takes a moment to compose itself. This allows me plenty of time to mentally ridicule it: a small plus in a world of minuses.

"It" is a small lab coat with a heart on the pocket. The lab coat sports a stethoscope, clipboard and very silly moustache. Somewhere inside the lab coat, it can be assumed, is an even smaller chibi. I can see his antennae twitching above the moustache.

* * *

"Hello! Ah am zee Hug Doctor. Ah am offerink zee Free Estimates on you Hug Requirement--zu." 

Can I kick it? No. That would be wrong...

"Very personal, very personal. We do zee Full Assessment of you specy... specs... speti... spethific Cuddle Need--zu!"

* * *

_Blink

* * *

_

"No thanks. I've already got one." My voice box appears to have an auto-pilot. Who knew?

Close door. Return to desk.

* * *

Gojyo is already reclining on top of the monitor. That little bastard is _fast_... 

"You know, I'm sure we can reach an equitable arrangement if you give it a chance. We have a lot in common: I like cuddles, you like cuddles..."

"How do you know I like cuddles? I might not like cuddles." Gojyo looks at me like I've grown another head. I refuse to check to see if this is so.

"Oh, come on. Everyone likes cuddles." he scoffs.

"Sanzo doesn't like cuddles."

"Sanzo needs therapy. With a stick. Stick Therapy."

* * *

_Sigh_.

* * *

"It's just not going to happen, little man." 

Gojyo's face begins a bizarre transformation, slowly changing color from peach to pink. He seems to be holding his breath. It's hard to be certain, considering the size and deformation of the facial features, but he appears to be channeling Chibi Rage.

"That's it! I know what _you're_ all about! I bet you'd be all over me if I looked like _this_, wouldn't you!" A picture is thrust in my face, partially obscuring Volcano Gojyo. "I bet if would be all _kinds_ of cuddles then!"

* * *

The picture... appears to be the cover art for Volume 7 of the Saiyuki manga. Somewhere, far in the distance, I hear the sound of a thin wall breaking. 

Gojyo's righteous rage shows no sign of abating. "That's discrimination! Just because I'm a foot tall doesn't mean I don't need hugs! Or... or I'm not a person, or I... You're prejudiced! You'd date _this_ guy in a minute!" The picture is now shaking too hard to see properly. "'Big'-got!"

* * *

Take picture from fuming chibi. Examine it more closely. 

Gojyo's rant continues without sign of an end. His face is now a lovely shade of crimson and there is steam coming out of his ears. This seems to confirm that his head is not where his brain resides.

"Hold it." I raise a finger as per the Chibi Rules of Extemporaneous Oratory. Gojyo follows suit with the Complete Freeze followed by Eye Rotation towards me.

"I wouldn't date this guy either."

* * *

"_What_?" The red drains from Gojyo like arterial blood from a neck wound. It is replaced by an ashen grey, from head to foot... clothing included, against all biological likelihood. 

"You... you wouldn't date me, even if I still looked like that...?" he squeaks.

"Uh...No." A tiny little heart of unknown composition coalesces and floats in the air above his head. It then shatters, and the pieces scatter on the surface of the desk. Before I can grab one in attempt to see if it is real... or at least, as real as the rest of this idiocy... Hakkai appears with a dustpan and brush, carefully sweeping up the bits.

* * *

"But... why?"

* * *

"He's a fictional character. Reality dictates that real people can't really date fictional characters. Thinking stuff like that is what gets the Men in White Coats coming to take you away... Ha ha."

* * *

In the blink of an eye, the color soaks back into Gojyo. His little heart pulls itself back together out of the dustpan like a ball of pink mercury and disappears into the air. 

"Oh. Is that all? Okay, then." He walks off, whistling.

Hakkai catches up to him, apparently with a concern on his mind.

"I'll need my little doctor outfit back now, Gojyo. There's no knowing when someone might get hurt."

"Do I haaaaaaave to?"

"Let me re-phrase: There's no knowing when _you'll_ get hurt."

"Here!"

"I'll be needing the little lab coat soon, you see. I have this theory..."

* * *

As they wander off... oh, hell. I have _no_ idea what just happened.

* * *

_Blink_.

* * *

...that little bastard ripped the cover off my manga. I'm going to use him as an adorable football next time I see him.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi_

* * *

_

**New Illustration**: available from my profile. And everyone gets a hug! You can only have a cookie if you can find the quantum cookie jar, though.

Notes:

Tyrne J writes "beating people up with sticks!"... in which there is a lot of RIGHTEOUS RAGE.

Tokyopop's website has a lovely scan of volume 7's cover art, if you want to know what the Little Man was talking about.

I believe Dr. Demento is the originator of the Funny Farm song, "They're coming to take you away, ha ha."

**  
**


	13. Part 13: In Which There is Chugging

**When Chibis Attack! **

**Part 13: In Which There is Chugging**

Reboot computer. It's chugging. Chugging like a freshman at a frat party, chugging like a choo-choo train, chugging like... a tired metaphor that just won't die.

Log in.

Still chugging.

* * *

Whack monitor a few times. While there is no physical way that this could make the processor work better, I find it also decreases the odds of breaking said processor. 

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you today, Wallace?"

* * *

**Awkward**: (_defn_.) the feeling evinced by three pairs of eyes being focused silently upon you, one pair still blinking sleepily. This feeling may be intensified by a voice echoing from guard duty outside the loo, "Who's _Wallace_?"

* * *

The sun slips over the edge of the roof, and a sunbeam falls on Kougaiji, instantly defeating him. He's snoring before he hits the cushion. 

"Mmmm... yes pwease, Mummy! More cookies... mmmmrfgl..."

Unfortunately, the cushioned thud and muffled mumbling fails to distract the Inquisition. Who Stare. Or shout, "Can we _eat_ Wallace?"

* * *

"I named the computer. Wallace." 

"Oh."

Log in... Dammit, I hate this thing!

"Did it help?" Hakkai inquires.

"No!" Whack, whack. Whack-whack-whack. "It's chugging worse today than ever before."

"Like an alcoholic at All You Can Drink Night?" Gojyo snickers.

"What was that?" I ask whilst whacking Wallace. "I can't hear you, Mr. Silly Moustache."

* * *

Gojyo's cussing follows him out of the room as he goes in search of glue remover to take off the remains of his Hug Doctor costume.

... Rum would take that off, no problem.

And now I think about it, it's hot in here and...

* * *

"I noticed it was running a little slow when I used it to buy groceries this morning." Hakkai volunteers, since he's the volunteering sort. 

"Who what now?" With what when? How?

"Ah ha ha... It was on when I got up this morning, so I used Sanzo's card to order grocery delivery online. I thought you wouldn't mind, since now we don't have to go out..."

"But I didn't leave it on. I didn't even turn it on yesterday." Is my eye twitching? I think it's twitching. Does that happen when people see things that aren't there for extended periods of time?

"It was on when I came out, and I shut it down after..."

"Fu fu fu fu fu..."

* * *

Look at Gojyo. He immediately starts whistling and studying the drapes. There is a little halo above his head, held in place by a stick, which he is trying to hide from view with his antennae. 

Hakkai grabs Gojyo with blinding speed, gags him and ropes him completely from head to toe. Which reminds me of something I've seen before, but for the life of me, I can't thing what.

* * *

"Tsk." tsks Hakkai. "What have you been up to? You know we need a safe place to stay until we can get back to Chibigenkyo." 

Turn on the desk light. Point at Gojyo's face.

It just seems like the right thing to do.

"What did you do to Wallace?" I ask the squinting chibi.

Hakkai pulls the gag.

"I'll never talk! Never! You'll have to..."

* * *

Pick up sleeping Kougaiji. Aim at Gojyo. With one hand, pull back the top of the Little Prince's head, exposing his pointy teeth. 

"Eek! N... no!"

Open, shut. Open, shut! "Chomp, chomp, chomp." I intone over Kougaiji's continuing snores.

"It was Sanzo's idea!" Gojyo breaks like an expensive electronic device in the mouth of a two year old. "He wanted to buy something, I don't know what. He wouldn't let me see! Besides that, we just looked at some pictures, that's all..."

"Chomp!"

"I swear that's all! I need a huuuuuuuuuggg..." The last ends in pitiful sobbing.

* * *

Return Kougaiji to cushion. Status: Still Sleeping.

* * *

Pictures? Glance at the Snottiest Pervert. He's once again free, and receiving the sympathetic back-pat from Hakkai. 

Pictures.

Uh oh.

* * *

My Documents folder is... full. No wonder Wallace is chugging. 

Take a deep breath. Breath out, as a scream preventative.

Open first picture.

* * *

Two kittens. Playing with a ball of string. 

Next picture: Kitten wearing a little raincoat.

Next: A basket of kittens. Then several shots of various grey cats. A persian.

* * *

"...what?"

* * *

"Well, you know Sanzo and kittens." Hakkai says from his perch on my shoulder. Dammit, I am not furniture! 

"Sanzo and kittens." I state. Select files. Move to outside storage. Hear Wallace whir a sigh of digital relief.

"Yes... um."

"It was all his idea!" Gojyo snots. "Once he gets started, you can't stop him. I just went to bed after a while. It wasn't my fault! I need a huuuuuuuuug..."

* * *

Reboot. Chugging ceases. 

Glance at Gojyo. Pat on the head, avoiding snot bubble.

"All better!" smiles the resilient chibi. Wait a sec, did I just pat him on the head? The stress must be getting to me.

* * *

_Pause_

* * *

"Where is my cat, anyway? I haven't seen her all day." 

"Well..."

"Hold it... do you smell smoke?"

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

If you don't believe Sanzo loves kittens, my profile has a link to proof. 

Thank to all the reviewers: Pyro, Blood, AzureKita et all, I hope future chapters answer questions you have... but keep leaving me questions, that's how I know what needs clarification.

Next week: Smoke!**  
**


	14. Part 14: In Which Questions Are Avoided

** When Chibis Attack! **

**Part 14: In Which Questions Are Avoided  
**

"Hold that thought, Hakkai...I smell smoke."

"Oh, I hope it's not the cookies!" Hakkai runs off in the direction of the kitchen. However, even in his sleep Kougaiji's ears twitch at the mention of cookies...

* * *

But this doesn't smell like burning confectionery. Burning sugar doesn't make my eyes run or my nose twitch. As I follow the smoke towards its source, it also occurs to me that cookies rarely burn in the bathroom. Especially when the shower is running. 

I should have known something was up when the singing stopping.

* * *

I tower over guardian Goku, the chibiest of chibis. 

Reach for the door.

"I can't let you in there. Sanzo said!" Goku squeaks up at me, pencil-length Nyoi-Bo in hand.

"You're a foot tall. What are you going to do about it?"

Goku pauses, deep in thought. Why wait for him to come up for air? Reach for the door.

Goku suprises me with a vicious tug on the pant-leg.

"What now?"

Huge baby-monkey eyes stare up at me... and ominously begin to fill with liquid.

"I'll cry."

"Bloody hell."

* * *

_Twitch_.

* * *

"Look." When force fails, one must resort to reason. "He's been in there a long time, so someone should check on him. He might have drowned... or set himself on fire..." 

"But Sanzo said..."

"I'll just knock. He didn't say not to knock."

"But."

"Knocking. Doesn't. Hurt." My _head_ hurts. Allergies? Brain tumor, maybe? A symptom of my on-going schizophrenic episode? Too much sugar?

"'kay."

* * *

Knock knock. 

"Who's there?" Comes a voice from within.

"The person whose bathroom you're smoking in, you little monster monk!"

"... little monster monk who?" responds the voice, muffled by the sound of the shower.

"Little monster monk who's going for a ride in the blender if he doesn't turn on the fan, open the window and put that damn thing out! I'm swelling up out here."

"Can't hear you over the shower, woman!" Replies the bottom of the door. "And anyway, I can't _reach_ the fan switch. Or the goddamn window..." The door continues to mutter.

"If you could hear all of that, you little..."

* * *

Commotion from the kitchen and the sudden appearance of Gojyo interrupts our comparatively quiet 'tête-à-door'. 

"C'mon, you guys! You've gotta see this!" the Kappa pants.

"Yes, Goku." I cajole through gritted teeth. "Go with Gojyo. I'll stay here and make sure _nothing happens to Sanzo_..."

"Eek!" squeaks Goku... yet he dutifully remains between me and the door. Oh, what loyalty, what courage... what an idiot...

* * *

"Forget all that!" In his excitement, Gojyo starts leaping up and down like a little red frog. "You guys are totally missing the show!" 

Loud noises from the kitchen pound their way into my awareness momentarily. But, 'one thing at a time' is the best way to handle things. AA taught me that. Or at least, their pamphlet did.

"What's going on?" The noises have gotten Goku's attention as well. As he leans towards the kitchen, I lean towards the door. Through it, the sound of newspaper pages being turned can just barely be heard over the shower.

He's probably even doing the crossword in there, that malicious...

"Hakkai was just taking cookies out of the oven and Kougaiji got wind of it. He's trying to steal the cookies, and Hakkai's on the defensive. It's like the Muppets meets Fight Club in there, man, you've gotta _see_ this!"

"Hakkai made _cookies_!"

* * *

Goku's exercise in selective hearing is interrupted by the doorbell. Mental Note: Disconnect doorbell - nothing good comes of doorbells. Next Mental Note: Drink whatever is left of the rum upon entering the kitchen, whatever else may be encountered there.

* * *

...I am absolutely certain I do not own a jar with the word "Cookies" on it. I don't even particularly _like_ cookies. I drink far more rum than milk and you can't dip cookies in rum. 

Bloody hellfire, _Shut UP_, Mr. Doorbell!

* * *

"Not a moment too soon!" hollers the shower. 

Suddenly, the bathroom door flings open and a blond streak whips by my legs. It is, quite thankfully, not a streaking streak of blond, but fully dressed in its accustomed monking suit. This is as one might expect from someone who was smoking and reading the paper, and not, in fact, showering.

To Sanzo's credit, his hair is still wet.

* * *

The monkey has abandoned his post and is in hot pursuit of the monk. 

Reach into bathroom. Turn on fan; turn off shower. Open window; close door.

* * *

I feel like I'm forgetting something important. 

Quietly curse all things miniature.

Feel slightly better.

Mr. Doorbell has stopped...

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Disclaimer: The Muppets belong to the genius Jim Henson. "Fight Club" is an amazing book by Chuck Palahniuk. If you like Saiyuki's vicious taboo-eating characters, you'll love Fight Club. 

Sorry it's so short this week, I'm running on fumes.

Whenever I get a chance to update next: Dire Warnings and Delivery!


	15. Part 15: In Which Drinking Resumes

**When Chibis Attack!**

**Part 15: In Which Drinking Resumes**

The Silence of the Doorbells... disturbs me.

The delivery man long gone, Chibi Sanzo has somehow managed to get the front door open and is dragging a cardboard box inside. He wears the grin of a weasel in a poultry processing plant.

"It's here! It's finally _here_!"

The other chibis are backing away slowly. Perhaps I should take this as an indication of a Safety Hazard?

* * *

Look over Sanzo's tiny shoulders at the Package. It is papered in stickers reading "Rush Order!", "Special Delivery!" and "Valued Customer!" The stickers obscure the address of the sender: 

"Kiss and Hugson," I read aloud.

* * *

"It's the latest model! The Saturday _Afternoon_ Special." Sanzo tears the package to pieces with the glee of a magpie on a fresh garbage bag. 

"Well... I think I'll go see if... Hakkai needs a hand..." Gojyo has managed to back all the way to the hallway.

"Yes... cookies..." Goku is not far behind... no, wait, in front... of him. They've obviously decided that the sounds of a violent conflict are vastly safer than the malicious laughter that escapes Sanzo as he holds the shiny silver gun aloft.

"Mua ha ha ha haaaaaa!"

* * *

It is bright and sunny outside. This indicates that the Chibis do not control the weather, as that laugh calls for a crash of thunder. I am deeply pleased that there are at least meteorological limits to this madness.

* * *

Gun in hand, Sanzo walks straight past me and into the kitchen. 

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" goes the gun.

Various screaming follows.

Goku, Gojyo and now Kougaiji appear and race down the hall. Sanzo follows in hot pursuit, robes flapping.

"Mua ha ha ha haaa!"

"Bang, bang, bang!"

* * *

Walk into kitchen. It looks like a recently demilitarized war zone, complete with craters and smoke. 

Hakkai is taking cookies off the cooling rack and putting them into their unbelievable jar.

"Oh, hello. Sorry about the mess; I'll get it cleaned up later. Would you like a cookie? I managed to save most of them..." He hops over an unexploded crumb, holding a little plate.

"No."

Reach into fridge: Rum.

Pour glass.

* * *

"Ah. I see. Yes, it has been an eventful morning, hasn't it." 

"Ha ha ha," I state blandly.

The screams are getting louder again, as are the "Bang!" noises and evil laughter. They must have gotten to the end of the hallway and turned around.

* * *

Drink.

* * *

"Won't you have a cookie with that? There won't be any left once Goku... and now apparently Kougaiji... get at them. Ha ha ha. At least try one?" 

Glance at Hakkai over rim of glass. Please, oh few snatches of remaining sanity, tell me he's not tearing up. I'm going to start bottling that stuff they constantly leak. Maybe I can sell it, since I sure as hell won't be getting any work done at this rate.

* * *

Take cookie. Munch. 

"They're pretty good. Well done."

Hakkai brightens visibly, and gives me a little hug. That's what I get for leaning on the counter within Hugging Range.

* * *

The three Chibis round the central wall and pass through the kitchen again, Sanzo still tailing them closely.

* * *

Drink.

* * *

They are gone, just as they came, back down the hall. 

Turn to Hakkai, who is carefully fitting a locking lid onto the cookie jar and setting a complicated timing device attached to it.

"It's a bloody _cap gun_, for crying out loud."

"I know," replies Hakkai with a smile. "But let him have his fun."

"Yarg."

"Have another, won't you." Hakkai proffers a plate again.

"What the hell."

Take cookie. Munch.

* * *

"While the others are amused for the moment, I have a matter I'd like to discuss with you." Hakkai pulls the Serious Face. 

"Oh." Refill glass. Pause in thought. Return rum to fridge. I have no hope of working if I'm unconscious, and work is what pays for rum.

"Yes, I'm afraid it's quite serious," Hakkai continues. "Excuse me just a minute..."

* * *

Chibi Hakkai takes his neatly folded lab coat off the shelf and puts it on. He takes a pair of glasses out of the coat's pocket and replaces his monocle with them. 

"Is someone sick?" I ask.

"Well, yes and no. You see, this is the little Scientist outfit: You'll notice there's no stethoscope..."

"Ah."

"But I'm afraid we all may be suffering from a kind of sickness, one that can't be cured by hugs alone."

* * *

Drink.

* * *

"Have a cookie with that." 

"Thanks."

"I'm beginning to suspect that this 'Chibiism' is progressive, and possibly even contagious."

"Really."

"Yes. For example, yesterday I wasn't able to do this..." Hakkai reaches behind his back and pulls out a bunch of flowers. "Here you are."

"Uh... thanks." Put rum down. Search for vase.

"Yesterday, there was nothing but air behind my back. Today I'm rather afraid to reach back there. Even this adorable little outfit is new to me, though it all seems so familiar."

"Maybe you're going insane. Ah, here it is."

* * *

Untie pink bow. Put flowers in water. Place in center of table. 

Rearrange flowers slightly.

Wait... can hallucinations go insane?

What nice chrysanthemums for this time of year. It's been years since I got flowers...

"I wondered about that, obviously," continues Cho Hakkai, Investigator of the Oddly Cute. "But is also seems to be spreading. Today you used the Chibi Rules of Extemporaneous Oratory, and a form of Chibi Interrogation."

"I did, didn't I..." There they go again, the Four Chibi Orbit of Screams and Bangs.

* * *

Drink.

* * *

"Cookie? You're welcome. Getting to the point, we really must find a way back to Chibigenkyo and get on our way to Ten-Chibikkyu... or at least find some remedy for this... and we must do it soon. In the meantime, I'm recommending more hugs and plenty of cuddles, but..." 

Two brain cells passing in an alcohol ocean...

"Hey, have you seen my cat?"

Silence.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Sorry for the confusion! By 'steam' I didn't mean I was running out of ideas... just sleep. And rum. But I can get more rum, and eventually sleep will follow. 

Blood-Debt had an adorable idea for Kougaiji summoning EngoCutie during the Cookie War... only to discover that the cookies were all burned because the fire monster likes cookies, too.

It's a pity it wouldn't fit. It made me snort rum laughing.

And has anyone (but me) thought of using this story as a drinking game? I suppose that could be dangerous if you're a speed-reader...

* * *


	16. Part 16: In Which Property is Damaged

**When Chibis Attack! **

**Part 16: In Which There is Property Damage**

Hakkai is avoiding my eyes.

I love my kitty. She never complains, as long as her dish is full, and she generally provides appropriate levels of fuzziness for my enjoyment. She does not scream, go bang, or receive deliveries.

"Where's my cat, Hakkai?" I repeat, moving to block his tactical retreat.

"Ah ha ha ha... she's quite alright, let me assure you."

"Where."

* * *

A curse on all doorbells. 

Grab meat-tenderizing mallet.

Front entrance: Open door. Step outside.

Break Doorbell.

Retreat.

* * *

Oh, wait. There is a large man standing outside the door, holding a clipboard and pen. He seems oddly surprised by my newly invented DoorNotBell. 

"What?" I inquire. I wonder if he would like me to install one at his house. Or would he like to help me apply for the patent?

"Ah!" Is he perhaps simply afraid of my 'Mallet of Peace' De-Doorbelling Tool? "Groceries! Ma'am."

Oh, is that all?

Wait... what?

"... what?" I seem to be repeating myself a lot lately. My life is in the re-runs. Runs, rums... Screw work! Need alcohol!

* * *

"Big Men With Little Deliveries, Ma'am." I can read your shirt, sir. I'm not _that_ sloshed... yet. 

"... wh-"

"You ordered groceries from us. Internet." The clipboard pays a close visit to my nose. I gaze at the incomprehensible form and wonder if there was some way I could have disabled the doorbell from without opening the door.

"But I'm afraid this isn't a 'Little' delivery, ma'am." He continues, gesturing at the load of boxes and bags. "You see, we don't charge for 'Little' deliveries when you order from Big Me-"

"Yes, yes, I'll take it from here, thank you. Excuse me, please."

* * *

My train of thought, trundling along the narrow bridge over the Drunken Gorge, follows thusly: Hakkai, why are you standing on the shoe-holding bench-thingy? Why are you taking off the little lab coat? Why are you plainly visible? Why the hell are you _talking_? 

This train derails, spilling it's contents into the Gorge, and leaving me speechless. After all, I was just going to ask this nice, assumedly _real_ person if he would like a drink.

Perhaps he could help me burn this place down.

* * *

"You see," continues Hakkai, the Little Litigant, "it isn't her order. It's mine. Here's the Gold Card." 

I feel a sympathetic twinge for the delivery man, whose name tag introduces him as, "Hello! My name is TRAINEE." He looks like he could use a drink. Mine is on the kitchen count...

Wait! I can't leave poor TRAINEE alone with the chibis! They might... eat him? Or get cute with him.

"Snrkt... get cute!... hee hee..."

* * *

Whoops! My little vocal slippage appears to have thrown some mental water-wings to his floundering coping skills. His eyes focus entirely on me, slumped in my chair, and exclude all impossible else. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but whoever the order is for, it's too big to qualify as 'Little'."

"A-hem." Hakkai, despite his relatively brief experience as a teacher, has fully mastered the Cough of Authority. Classrooms the world over become curiously silent, and TRAINEE's eyes drag down as if caught by little hooks.

* * *

Poor Bastard. Doorbells aren't his friends either, I guess.

* * *

"Your website specified that an order qualifies for free delivery if that order is, and I quote, 'a Little order'. When examined the information under your Terms of Service agreement..." Uh-oh. Hakkai has a folder of paper out. Now it's all over but the screaming. "It says right here, 'Under 20 pounds'. Nowhere does it specify if the 'Little' order was an order that is little, or an order that belongs to 'little' (as in person). Can you see this from way up there?"

* * *

Poor, poor bastard.

* * *

As anyone confronted with their first hallucination would do, and as I have personally experienced, he is trying to look through, or around, Hakkai. He stares intently at the papers, desperately avoiding the tiny fingers holding them aloft. 

He is, no doubt, half-looking for an 'off' switch.

There isn't one, kiddo. I checked. Run now, and don't look back!

* * *

"You... can't be..." 

"Oh, I assure you, I'm well under 20 pounds." Hakkai, are you blushing a little? Why is that cutely disturbing? "I eat well and take care of myself. Who doesn't these days? Anyway, if you have a scale I would be happy to.."

"But! It's the-"

* * *

And Comet KouGoGo rounds the Inner Wall System again, trailed by: 

"Help! Help! Help!"

"We're gonna diiiiiiieee!"

"Nyaaaaaaaaaa!"

"Bang, bang, bang!"

"Mua ha ha ha ha!"

* * *

"Sign here." 

"Thank you."

* * *

And the van is gone, a slight smell of hot rubber wafting in from the street.

* * *

"Come help me unpack or there'll be no lunch!" Hakkai calls. 

And the Exercise ends as abruptly as it began. Three chibis begin to feign industrious assistance, and one retreats to polish his new gun and cackle maniacally.

"Say, Hakkai, I thought we weren't supposed to let anyone see us...?" Gojyo enquires, having caught his breath.

"I somehow doubt he'll tell anyone what happened. Ah ha ha ha."

* * *

They know someone who's on their own, someone like me, won't talk. They're like the mob. The Chibi Mob. 

Someone could make a movie about it. They could call it The Unhuggables.

* * *

Kitchen. 

Rum!

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Brand new and highly adorable art from **Lou Blue** is up. Her take on Chapter 15 is linked from my profile. 

As I type this, I am wearing Kitten Ears on my head. I apologize for any resulting inconsistencies.


	17. Part 17: In Which There Are Threats

** Part 17 : ****In Which There are Threats**

* * *

The rum is in the kitchen, and that's where I'm going, come hell or high water!

* * *

Somewhere along the way, two surviving brain cells accidentally meet in the musty corridors of my mind. They move politely to shake hands, and the dry air causes a spark.

* * *

Grab obfuscating chibi. Lift to blurry eye level. 

"Where the hell is my _cat_, you little green monster?"

"Excuse me, I'm not green at all..."

Turn Hakkai upside down.

"Cat." I state with emphasis.

"Yeek!" he responds.

"Hey! What are you doing to Hakkai?" I've caught the attention of two of his little helpers, while Kougaiji continues to unpack, in search of cookies I bet. Gojyo and Goku may be trying to look threatening. I have a headache the size of Kilimanjaro, and I'm feeling improbably sober... ish. At the moment, I'd be willing to take them on full size.

I'd get my ass kicked, but...

"Cat! That's what I'm asking, where is my c-"

"Shhhhhh!"

Three fingers cross three sets of lips in unison, even if one is dangling upside down by an ankle.

* * *

My stupid eye is twitching again.

* * *

"Step into the kitchen, won't you?" 

What else can I do? She's my kitty. And for some reason, Hakkai looks so _trustworthy_ with those glasses on.

* * *

"Cat." I repeat in the kitchen. 

"Yes. She's quite safe and happy, I assure you."

"Where."

Hakkai sways gently from one ankle, and approaches the topic with care. "You are aware that Sanzo has a ... Kitten Problem?"

"What?"

"Oh yes. I call it the 'Kougaiji Effect': His eyes become unusually sparkly and he develops a fixation that causes him to ... um... affix himself to the object. Feline, in his particular case."

Glance to the right. Kougaiji has materialized on my shoulder, where he smiles beatifically and hugs my neck. I've gotten to used to the weight, I guess I don't even notice anymore.

I wonder if I'm becoming a hunchback?

* * *

"So," continues Hakkai, "for her own safety, we..." 

Shake blabbering chibi lightly.

Hakkai's hair fluffs out and his glasses go askew.

"Yes?" He returns his attention to me. Which is good. You shouldn't ignore someone who's holding you upside down by the ankle.

"Where's my cat, Hakkai? I won't ask again."

Eyes meet blurry eyes. I can't stop mine from twitching. I hope it makes me look edgy. Kougaiji hugging my neck and humming "You Are My Sunshine" does not make me look edgy.

I look meaningfully at the blender. I has plenty of edges.

* * *

Sigh. Meaningfully. Close eyes. Shake head.

* * *

"Um..." Hakkai looks down... no, up at his shoes. "I'm sorry. Nerves, you know. Yes, she's in the basement with plenty of food and..." 

Hakkai must have taken landing lessons from my cat. He hardly makes a sound when dropped, and lands neatly on his feet.

"The Basement!"

"She's quite happy down there, and..."

"But! The Basement!" The black pit of forgotten laundry and discarded, broken... things?

"It was quite a relief for her. Sanzo is very fluffy right now, and she was getting hairballs from..."

"But!"

"And there's the risk of diabetes, you see, from..."

"Gah!"

* * *

I follow my eloquent outburst with a mad dash to the stairs and down, smacking the light switch to illuminate the disaster below.

* * *

The cat is fine. 

She gives me The Look, often seen by cat owners who try to 'rescue' the animal from napping in a previously undiscovered hiding place.

She's been brushed, which I never do, and her claws are trimmed, which I only do when she reminds me by scratching me.

And someone has been doing my laundry.

* * *

Leave, self-esteem utterly destroyed.

* * *

The stairs feel like Kilimanjaro. My headache is now the entirety of the Alps. And Hakkai is there, on ground level, giving me a sympathetic look. 

"You know what you need?" He begins.

"A shotgun." Oh, yes.

"A nap."

"Nap."

"Sanzo gets cranky in the afternoon if he doesn't get a nap."

This image of the badly-behaved, heavy-drinking priest having to go down for a snooze momentarily throws my pace.

"Nap? Sanzo?"

"Chibis love naps."

* * *

I feel a twinge of empathy for cattle as I am gently herded to my bedroom. Kougaiji is already pre-napping on my pillow. 

Remove royal chibi. Put in hallway.

Tears of objection form in his eyes even before his feet touch the ground.

* * *

Exhaustion, confusion and a strange sense impending doom tap a deep well of instinctive knowledge within me. That knowledge bypasses my broken brain, transmitting directly to my face. The ensuing facial expression cuts through the pink chibi fog to Kougaiji's inner survivor. 

'Now is not the time for a tantrum,' telegraphs my face.

'A tantrum would lead to punishment, or a Sigh, or perhaps even the dreaded Crying Parent.' my face continues.

Meanwhile, all my brain manages to crank through thinking is, 'Hakkai may be on to something. I certainly _wish_ I was unconscious right now.'

* * *

Kougaiji skips over and hugs my ankle. Then, much to my surprise, he _lets go_, and smiles up at me. 

"Smeep well!" He grins, then shuts the door softly on his way out.

* * *

I feel rather small. 

I wonder if it's Chibi-itis... or whatever.

Who cares? Mr. Pillow has made an excellent argument for snnrft-

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

I posted a one-shot spin-off of this as **Night of the Living Chibis**. It's an extra chapter (omake, hee hee!), but it didn't fit with the timeline, so I posted it as a spin off. 

**New Fan Art** by **teh1337kw33n**, available from my profile. Send me links to your chibi fanart! I will dance a happy dance!

... a-hem.

And... by gum, I love your reviews! You guys are great. I really do write faster knowing that there are people looking forward to the next chapter. Thanks a million. And I do care, Pyro/Hiei... or at least the chibis do. They're like that, you know.

Next time: Cutest Chapter... Ever.

Bring your insulin.


	18. Part 18: In Which There is a Drink

** When Chibis Attack! Part 18 **  
**In Which... Uh... Yeah.**

Well in to Mr.Pillow's dissertation on the benefits of midday nappage, the chibis get up to something.

Though not up to much, as they couldn't reach that high.

* * *

"What do you think is in it?" 

"Who knows?"

"What are you idiots doing?" Sanzo takes a break from polishing his new gun to find out what the targets are up to.

"Hakkai found a bottle in the bathroom cupboard."

"What's so special about that?" Sanzo takes the bottle from Hakkai and squints at the label, then takes out his reading glasses.

"Drink...me..." He reads the label aloud. The words are inscribed in curly, plot-suggestive letters.

* * *

"What do you think it does, Sanzo?" Goku tries to read over his shoulder. 

"How the hell should I know? What does it do, Hakkai?"

"I have no idea." Hakkai shrugs his round little shoulders. "There was nothing near it, and I'm sure it wasn't there yesterday when we looked for the way back."

"I bet it doesn't taste very good. Nothing you find under the sink does." Son Goku has learned a few things in his five-hundred-odd years of life, and sometimes he feels the need to share the gems with the youngsters.

"Thwack!" replies the wapping fan.

"Ow!"

* * *

A pause prolongs as they study the bottle. 

"Well..." Hakkai begins, eventually. "I suppose we could test it on someone."

"We could give it to Goku. His stomach's lead-lined." Gojyo is happy to volunteer... someone else.

"What!" Goku dissents.

"Now, Gojyo," Hakkai interjects. "If it makes him sick, I'll have to put on the little doctor outfit, and you know the stethoscope hurts my ears..."

"Besides," Sanzo shakes the bottle vigorously and squints at it again. "If he does get sick, we'll have to carry his sorry ass all the way to Ten-Chibikkyu."

Goku supports this statement with nods. He nods faster and faster until Sanzo speaks again, at which time he stops, a little motion sick.

Sanzo tosses the bottle back to Hakkai,

"No, there's only one way to do this."

All big, sparkly eyes turn to Sanzo.

"We give it to Kougaiji,"

* * *

Kougaiji sits in a pool of sunlight on the floor of the front room. He noticed that his 'Mummy' wasn't feeling too well earlier, and apparently hugs weren't enough to set things right. Being a pro-active little Prince, he has set about making a truly worthy card using paper, felt pens, crayons, cotton balls, macaroni, paste and sparkles. Where he found the container of sparkles is anyone's guess. The cat may have given it to him. 

As the Sanzo group look on, he has a slight accident with the sparkles, sending a handful flying into the air.

"Wheeee!"

* * *

"Go on Hakkai. Give it to him." Sanzo, ever the efficient delegator of work. 

Hakkai's eyes are drawn to the bottle in his hands, found under the sink and bearing such portentous words.

There go the sparkles again: "Hee hee hee!"

* * *

"..."

* * *

Hakkai's eyes meet Sanzo's with the shine of resolve, "I can't do it, Sanzo. You know I'm against animal testing." 

"He's not an animal!" Still, Sanzo recognizes resolve when he sees it. Carefully keeping the Prince of Sparkles out of his line of sight, Sanzo looks for another henchman to do his will.

Gojyo has taken a page from Hakkai's book, and is now studying his shoes, doing research on carpet patterns, and writing his dissertation on drapes.

...Goku, on the other hand, has found his own sheet of paper and joined Team Sparkle.

* * *

A united, if adorable, front presented, Hakkai holds out the bottle. "I'm sorry Sanzo." 

"He's just too damn cute." Gojyo is Somewhere between Acceptance and Jealousy.

* * *

"Goddammit! Do I have to do everything myself!" Sanzo snatches the bottle from Hakkai, daring anyone to point out that he rarely does anything himself. 

The Mighty Mini-Monk marches over to the two playmates, and enters their storm of sparkles. He makes good use of his carefully cultivated concentration, refusing to read Kougaiji's card.

(Which says, 'Dear Mummy,' on the front. The inside may bear overwhelming cuteness.)

* * *

"Hey." 

Kougaiji blinks up at Sanzo through the sparkles.

"Your Mom said to give you this." The monk lies through his holy teeth.

"Yay!"

While Goku remains thoroughly distracted by the paste and sparkle universe, Kougaiji takes the bottle... and promptly puts it in his jacket.

* * *

Dumbfounded, Sanzo watches him for a moment. Kougaiji returns to gluing pasta on the 'Y'. 

Patience, it seems, wasn't taught on the same day as concentration in Monking Class.

"You're supposed to drink it, idiot."

"I'm not firsty."

This is all a little too much for Sanzo. "Damn it. If you're not going to drink it, give it back!"

"No!" Cries Kougaiji, jumping to his feet. Paste bottle in one hand, and the other holding his jacket close, Prince Chibi is on the defensive.

"It's fwom my Mummy!"

* * *

"..." "... too damn cute."

* * *

Kougaiji finishes his card. Goku finishes his... sculpture? Hakkai makes them both clean up the sticky mess. 

Defeated and cranky, Sanzo goes down for a nap.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

...I want to join Team Sparkle. 

And thanks to Kierrn, I now have Virtual Rum, as well as the real stuff... that, along with the rest of you in my Chibi Support Group, is making life bearable.

Next Time: The Chibis Share a Lesson in Caring.


	19. Part 19: In Which There is Appreciation

**When Chibis Attack!**

**Part 19: In Which There is Appreciation**

Oh, hell. Am I conscious again? I _feel_ conscious. Why does that keep happening? No matter how hard I try, how much I drink, I keep waking up.

That freakish dream is still hanging on in my head, making me check my hair for an impossible occupant prior to sitting. Ha ha, I'm going to tell the shrink about that one.

No, wait...

Maybe not. I'm just not _ready_ for a padded cell yet.

Still on that topic, I can't help thinking I forgot something this morning. Or did I dream that I forgot something, since it's now well into the afternoon? Either way, I don't remember what I forgot.

Isn't that how it always is, though?

* * *

It's a little cool in here. Sweater for now, check the furnace for... whenever. 

What day is it, anyway?

Calendar's in the kitchen, which is, incidentally, a good place to go, as that's where I keep my r...

* * *

Oh... hell.

* * *

Two cards. On the hallway floor. 

On the left, a careful and intricate work of pasta and sparkle genius. Any six year old would be proud of it. Even sent away to Genius School because of it. Individual fragments of pasta have been colored and arranged to form a mosaic of 'Dear Mummy,' on a soft background of pastel-stained cotton wool. Sparkles coruscate outward from the cotton, as if the sparkly sun were peeping out from behind a delicate cloud. A cloud that proclaims 'Dear Mummy,' to all the earth.

On the right, a... sculpture?

If a maddened cow had eaten Seigfried and Roy, it might have passed something like this.

* * *

I need a drink.

* * *

Squat to see if the cards are stuck to the floor. Glance around: No one. Nevertheless, carefully lift one card in each hand at precisely the same time. 

"D' you like it? Huh? Huh? I named it Mount Sparkle!"

"Do you wike it?"

Flop down against the wall, brief grasp on reality snapped like a twig.

* * *

Set each card by its respective chibi, each one now immersed in explaining the features of his respective card. Nod appreciatively, offer non-specific commendation, accept my fate. Push the side of Mt. Sparkle when instructed, causing more sparkles to fountain out of the top. Open Kougaiji's card, admiring the lovely still life of a fruit bowl within, and the little poem about apples. 

Prepare non-partisan speech. Recite:

"You've both done such a lovely job. I'm sorry I was upset earlier." I was just too sober, I would like to say, but the card-accepting process is a delicate one. The last thing I need is more chibi-tear flooding due to under-appreciation of crafts. I doubt I have enough absorbent materials left.

* * *

"It's okay! All better?" Kougaiji adorably attempts to check me over, possibly for infestation, possibly for hidden candy. 

"Yes. Yes, I am." I lie the lie. Though, strangely enough, I do feel... different. Perhaps it's the paint fumes.

Perhaps happiness is not unlike being a little high.

* * *

"Oh, that's nothing anyway. You should see Sanzo when he's cranky." Goku pauses in thought, idly tapping Mt. Sparkle, causing the sparkle flow to obliterate a pasta village on its slope. "Actually, Sanzo's always cranky. I mean when he's cranky - er. You know, shootin'-stuff cranky. You're way better that Sanzo when he's seriously trying to kill us all." 

My mind races through the tangle of diction, attempts to decipher the possible meanings, and throws cogitative hands in the air.

"Uh... thanks." I think... maybe.

"No problem."

"Hugs!" Kougaiji is a chibi of few words. It's a quality to be admired in princes, who sometimes let the standing-on-high-things pre-battle speech get a little long. The little guy finally knows what he wants, I guess.

* * *

What? Was that character development? That's just wrong. Leave the character development to the people whose lives have plot, that's what I say. I'll just stick to... uh... 

What the hell... I have two arms, which allows for inarguably equal hugs,

* * *

My mind wanders to 'equal' places that might display the cards. Finding a clutter-free space here is like finding a house in Tokyo: even if it's possible, it's going to cost you. So, move my grandmother's picture, or stop using the stove? 

"Awww... isn't that cute!" Hakkai has found a camera and thoroughly blinds everyone with the flash.

* * *

Do chibis even show up in photos? 

Never mind. I'm sure they're terribly photogenic.

"Damn! I totally should have made a card..." Gojyo, hug-deprived again, kicks the ground and jams his hands into his pockets.

* * *

Sigh.

* * *

"Well, Gojyo... I guess I could fit you..." 

Trying to de-hug Goku and Kougaiji is proving difficult, even beyond the Lil' Prince's general staticky-sock clinginess.

"Hey... why are you guys all sticky?" Gojyo once-again forgotten, I try to salvage my arms.

* * *

"Oh no!" I've learned that Hakkai saying 'Oh no!' is a general preface of doom. Life is just full of these little lessons. "I made them clean up the front room, but not..." 

"Man, you're covered in glue!" Gojyo is helpfully yanking on Goku for all he's worth, to a refrain of 'Ow, my arm!' and other classics.

"Come on, Kougaiji, you need a bath!" Hakkai's efforts to dislodge Prince Chibi are being hindered by said chibi's refusal to _let go_.

"What the hell is all this noise?" Here comes Bed-Head Sanzo to save the day. Or not. Most likely not, from the sleep in his eyes and scowl on his face. "What have I told you about getting covered in stuff, you stupid monkey? Use your goddamn head!"

"Thwockitch!"

* * *

The Fan, its use inevitable, is now connected to Goku's head. Sanzo, desperate to free his beloved Fan, puts one foot on Goku for leverage... and stays there. 

The mild complaints of the others are now joined by a harmony of blasphemous and pejorative cursing.

This is what I get for getting down to floor level.

* * *

"Kougaiji." 

"Yes, Mummy?"

Shudder.

* * *

"You need a bath. Let go of me, and go with Hakkai." 

"Okay..." He lets go... but remains attached, as per the Chibi Rules of Physical Comedy.

Resist the urge to shake arms violently, whack against the wall, scream, etc.

Use now partly-freed hands to pull my sweater off over my head.

"Hey, at least we get a show! Aw... she's wearing a shirt under it..."

"I would hit you if a could." Despite his hindrances, Sanzo still makes a valiant effort to pugilize Gojyo... rendering the two of them even more stuck.

* * *

Pick up sweater, chibis and all. Toss into the bathroom. 

"You deal with it."

"Right! Won't be long." Calls out Hakkai's chipper voice, denying all appearances.

Close bathroom door.

I need to wash my hands. And change. And put these cards somewhere.

Ready, set, go! Dammit...

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Starlight-Dagger has a kitten. I am insanely jealous. 

Feel free to make your own **Team Sparkle** shirts. You know I'm gonna.

Next time: The Onsen Episode! ... there's always one in every series...


	20. Part 20: In Which There is Cleanness

_Warning: This chapter contains excessive amounts of fan-service. But it's chibi-style fan-service, which is... different._

**Part 20: In Which There is Cleanness**

A thorough wash and a fresh sweater later, the lack of noise starts to worry me.

No noise: no screaming, explosions, thumps, not even cursing.

Outside the bathroom door, all that can be heard is running water. And a clinking noise?

* * *

Knock, knock. 

Not even the Comically Required, 'Who's there?' from within.

"Everything alright in there?" Perhaps my knocking was drowned out by the sound of running water... constant, quickly flowing water.

Still nothing.

* * *

Are chibis water soluble? No, Sanzo took a shower earlier. But maybe soaking is the problem: they're already so small, maybe they prune up into nothing. Or did they just get in a fight and drown each other? That seems the most likely scenario. 

Visions of little Smurf-blue bodies floating in my bathtub provoke me to action.

The door's unlocked; I guess they were too short to reach it.

"I'm coming in!" I holler.

Step in.

* * *

There is a waterfall in my bathroom. 

Steam coruscates through the air as the waterfall splashes into a shallow, tiled pool. The pool is where my bathtub formerly resided in peace for many years. I could measure its age in its rings, and now it is no more, only this waterfall, and a fig tree...

* * *

The small wooden bucket that bounces off my head brings my rather limited perception to bear on the other new features of my bathroom. Such as the high-pitched screaming and the hail objects flying towards me. 

The chibis, very alive and well, are ducking in the shallow pool and hurling various bathroom accoutrements at my head to the tune of, "Eek!", "Pervert!" and "Get the hell out of here!"

"Wait! Why is there a waterfall in my - ouch, dammit! Where did that fig tree come from?"

The flourishing, leafy fig tree seems to be somehow sentient. It waves its prehensile branches in some imaginary wind, never failing to obscure the ever-moving chibi-nudity with its well placed foliage.

"Ah ha ha ha... we did some re-modelling to make things more... appropriate. But you really must go now." Hakkai sheepishly lobs a miniature back-brush at me.

* * *

"What's all the noise... uwah!" Gojyo walks out of a previously non-existent enclosure and into the back of my leg, causing a desperate mass dive to rescue his tray of hot sake from otherwise certain demise. Gojyo, on the other hand, is allowed to face-plant undisturbed. 

I cover my face with my hands, though not for the sake of decency, since the fig tree flourishes to wrap the whole scene from view with speed generally associate with predatory felines, not greenery.

* * *

My active refusal to observe this situation seems to confuse the chibis. Perhaps when I can't see them, they doubt whether they really exist? 

Sadly, no.

"What's she doing in here!"

"Um... I'm not sure."

"And I don't care. She goes. Now!"

"'C'mon, Sanzo... I don't mind, as long as she takes off her clothes as w-"

* * *

The familiar sounds of violence echo up. I re-open my eyes, but only to gaze up at the stately fig tree in its neat pot. Its leaves strain towards the negligible light provided by the bathroom window, yet also swing madly around, following the chibis' short, round fan-service unfailingly. Do they emit light-like radiation, perhaps? 

By the time my eyes are dragged downward again, the chibis have found fluffy, white bathrobes. Still, the hail of tiny bath things continues unabated.

* * *

Where the hell did they get all that sake? I didn't see it in the groceries, I would have remembered. 

But it's really not worth asking, is it?

* * *

"I'm going, I'm going! Just... turn off that waterfall when you're done, or I swear I'll charge you for the water bills." 

"Oh, no, it's all filtered, internally heated and re-cycled. Excuse me: Eeek!"

Hakkai's explanation... doesn't help.

"Bye bye!" Kougaiji waves at me, then happily throws a bar of soap at me as I retreat out the door.

"There's some lunch on the table for you!"

"Hakkai! There were leftovers, and you didn't tell me?"

"Now, Goku..."

"Click," says the door as I sneak away, oddly guilty.

* * *

Sandwich on the counter, carefully arranged with a few pickles. 

Help myself to a side dish of rum.

* * *

Wait... 

They're contained. I could -

- burn the house down?

- or get on with my work.

* * *

Look at the neat little sandwich (crusts cut off), and slice of beetroot cut into a heart shape. 

It probably wouldn't kill them, even if I did.

Work it is, then.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

I'll be posting a mini-chapter, hopefully some time this week. 

My self-esteem is now almost entirely based on your delightful reviews, allowing me to play with pasta and sparkles without fear of public opinion. So, now you know: you hold a fragile little heart in your electronic hands. Feel the power!

My favorite review so far: "oh my god, I nearly died." That's it. Not good, or bad, simply that I somehow provoked a near death experience. How cool is that?

A-hem. Sorry.

Next Time: Goku.


	21. Part 21: In Which There is No Alcohol!

**When Chibis Attack!**

**Part 21: In Which There is No Alcohol!**

One file down, many to go.

Is it just me, or is it getting cold in here?

Look down. Kougaiji, squeaky clean, and-

Wait. That's not Kougaiji...

* * *

Goku is sitting on the floor staring at me. 

I'd try to work, but we all know how this goes.

Cut to the chase: "What?"

"Hakkai said not to bug you." The biggest of chibi eyes, in the roundest of chibi faces.

"Hakkai's smart. You should listen to him."

"But I'm Hug-ry."

"Then..." Pause. Try to reset ears. "Do you have a cold?"

"No."

"Oh."

I'm just Hug-ry!"

There's nothing left of my sandwich, which was very nice indeed. "...Hakkai has food." I venture, trying to make my problem into someone else's.

"I'm not hungry. I'm Hug-ry!"

* * *

Dammit.

* * *

"Hug-ry." I repeat, trying to make it sound as little like a question as possible. 

"Yep."

"Which is?"

"Like hungry, only for a hug."

* * *

Cuteness Limit Reached. Please shelve brain and do whatever is being asked. Failing to do so will result in diabetic shock, being stuck in an adorability induced coma and being hugged against your will. 

Hug chibi.

"Yippee!"

"Now go away."

"Okay!"

* * *

If only all of life's problems were so simple.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

For all the Goku fans out there... like Chisai1213 who is very eloquent in this regard. 

The title should have been a dead giveaway that this would be a short chapter... a Chibi Chapter!

Next Time: Sports!

...though not Team Sparkle vs. The Vikings.


	22. Part 22: In Which Something is Shocking

**Part 22: In Which Something is Shocking**

Close second folder, toss onto the Good Enough pile. This kind of productivity has to be a personal record.

Better go get some coffee from the helpful hallucination in my kitchen. My fingers are freezing, I could use the warm up.

It _is_ cold in here! I can tell because...

* * *

Kougaiji is sitting on the floor, staring up at me. He's wearing a black and white, down-filled parka. 

"Why the hell is it so cold in here?" I ask the wall, in a loud voice.

"I'm making pastry, so I shut off the heat. It'll warm up in here soon enough; I've got the oven on." The wall answers in a suspiciously In Charge voice. The wall's not the boss of me! I give the wall a piece of my mind:

"Don't just do stuff like that without asking!"

He looks like a soccer ball.

* * *

Hakkai-Beyond-the-Wall might have made an intelligent reply to my rejoinder. I just wasn't listening. This is because the Prince of the West is as wide as he is high, so stuffed with down that he's round, and covered with black and white checkers. 

Soccer ball.

Soccer ball, staring lovingly back at me.

Soccer ball, squeaking, "I wuv you!" as I stand and step toward it.

* * *

I used to love playing soccer. I was even on a community team once; it was great. Now, for the perfect kick, you see, you pull your leg back like _this_, and...

* * *

There is a knocking, knocking at my front door. 

Loud. Persistent. Authoritative, perhaps.

* * *

Glance down at Soc... Kougaiji. 

"Scat. I have to get the door."

Little arms stuck straight out to the sides, he tries to lever himself up. Rolls over onto his back, instead.

"Hewp!"

* * *

Dammit. Too cu... 

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock!

"Coming!" Goalie-grab over-stuffed chibi. Where can I hide it?

Knock! Knock!

"Sorry, just a sec!"

* * *

Stuff chibi under sweater, cursing the apparent ineffectiveness of my DoorNotBell. So much for that Nobel Prize in Home Peace Technology. 

Open door a crack and peer out.

* * *

Policeman.

* * *

Quick mental archive check: Have I done anything illegal lately? Quasi-legal? I haven't had time to download any music, and I'm sure it's still legal to be drunk in your own home... 

"Hello there, ma'am. Sorry to disturb you."

"That's quite alright, officer." The chibis are hiding right? They're smart enough to hide. Sure they are.

"Do you know you have a broken doorbell, ma'am? Have you had trouble with vandals?"

"Oh, no. Just doing some home improvements. How can I help you, sir?"

"Well, it's just a bit of an inquiry, ma'am. Asking the public's help in an investigation."

"Oh?" The officer keeps moving towards the door, opening it a little with each word. Those chibis had better be hiding, or he can take them away to some cute little cells, for all I care...

* * *

"You heard the 7-11 was knocked over last night?" He asks. In my surprise, I let the door open all the way. Suddenly, he's infinitely more friendly, though I can't figure why. Maybe he likes my choice of carpet. 

"No. Really? Again? Poor Mr. Clerk. Is he alright?"

"Yes, ma'am. Just a little shaken up, that's all."

"Gee, that's too bad. I mean, good! I mean, good that he's not hurt; bad that they robbed..."

"Yes, ma'am. So, do you have any kids here? Besides the one on the way."

On the way to what? "Uh. No. No kids."

Various relatives have, on occasion, forced me to watch their sugar-maddened spawn, generally when all the local babysitters have fled their area. These brief interactions with the Fascist Dictators of Tomorrow have convinced me thoroughly of the benefits of not breeding.

* * *

"Didn't really think so," the policeman continues. "Still, we have to ask. You see, Mr. Clerk keeps insisting that he was taken down by a pair of toddlers." 

"Toddlers?" They... toddled up and hit him? I mean, I know they can be vicious, but...

"You know, little kids. Really little, according to him. But, to be honest..." Mr.Policeman leans conspiratorially closer. "I think he might have been nipping into the juice a little that night, if you understand.

"Oh, yes. I understand." ...So very well indeed.

"Working a job like that, a guy gets bored. Maybe he drinks a little to help the time pass..." He continues, as if this observation was Top Secret.

"Mm-hmm." Or, perhaps he drinks to make his hallucinations stop. I wonder if Mr. Clerk has a Chibi Problem? If he does, I truly share his pain.

* * *

"So, here we have this order to interview preschoolers, ask if they or their friends have beaten up any grown-ups and stolen their cigarettes lately. I tell you, it's making us all feel a little silly." 

"I bet." Something is nagging at the back of my mind. It could well be that I've seen so much silliness in the last few days that silly things seem normal.

"Anyway, if you hear anything about the robbery, call this number. Okay?" A card. Number for Sgt. P. Mann.

"Will do."

"But don't go worrying yourself over it. You should take it easy. When's the baby due, anyway?"

Huh? Due? In the mail?

Glance at my feet to see if they heard him more clearly than my ears did.

Can't see my feet.

* * *

Fight sudden urges to run, throw up, scream, and have sterilization surgery. 

Soccer ball in sweater. I mean, chibi in...

Chibi who thinks I'm his...

It's so hard to self-censor at times like this.

* * *

"Any minute now." I smile brightly to hide the grimace of disgust invading my face. 

"Really? Well, I'm sure that will be a relief."

"You have no idea."

"Ha ha, I suppose it'll be 'Mom,' not 'ma'am' then, hey?"

And thankfully he leaves, laughing at his little joke.

I'm glad he's gone.

Assaulting an Officer carries a hefty jail term. If I'm going to live in a cell, I'd prefer a padded one.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Oooo... spot the oblique innocent-party humor! Do_ you_ have a Chibi Problem? 

Team Sparkle will be playing Team Glitter Glue in the next Saccharine Cup game. Winners will go on to the Final!

Next Time: Rebirth!


	23. Part 23: In Which Shocking Escalates

**Part 23: In Which Shocking Escalates**

The door is safely closed.

Turn, and yank completely blissful Kougaiji out of my sweater. Good thing that I always wear a shirt underneath; bad thing that I still have a house-full of little lunatics. Speaking of which:

* * *

Gojyo and Sanzo are peering around the corner in that peculiar one-head-above-the-other way that makes you wonder how the bodies behind the wall are arranged. 

"What?" Glare at them. Try to put Kougaiji down. Cannot put Kougaiji down. He's once again wuvingly attached, and now extremely staticky. Note to self: Poly-cotton shirt, wool sweater and chibi-fluff creates massive electro-static buildup. I doubt that any of that power could be harvested for anything useful. Producing anything useful would be patently anti-chibi.

"Nothing," chorus the two Unattached Trouble Generators. They wander off in separate directions, whistling different tunes, one of which is 'It's a Small World'.

Suspicious. Yet cute.

* * *

"I'm done with the pastry, you can turn the heat on again." Hakkai appears in the hallway, white with flour from head to toe. 

The monochrome nature of this chibi distracts me from the suspiciousness of the others. My brain momentarily out-of-order, my body goes ahead on its own and holds Kougaiji out above Hakkai. Particles of flour fountain upward onto the Staticky Clinger.

"Well, isn't that fascinating..." Hakkai muses, shaking his clothes and watching the flour rise up. "How would you like to help me clean up the kitchen, Kougaiji?"

"I'm busy." Vital matters of state, no doubt.

"I'll give you a cookie."

* * *

Random blue sparks shoot out as Kougaiji's little, round feet hit the floor. Watching him follow Hakkai out into the kitchen, I can't help wondering if this counts as a Power Up.

* * *

First Things First: Heat! 

... then possibly more booze.

* * *

Time flies when you're having fun. 

It also flies when your perceptions of reality are a little hazy. Or, maybe it's not flying, maybe you just think it flew because you can't remember how long it really took.

All the same, it seems like moments after I return to avoiding work that Gojyo and Goku start tearing apart my Youkai-Hakkai ravaged chair in search of the spare change within. They fight over the coins they find, then they fight _with_ the coins, flinging them at each other with stinging speed.

One missed shot nearly hits the back of my head. I am aware of this only because the heat of Kougaiji's hook-shot fireball from around the kitchen corner slightly singes my hair after it melts the coin in mid-flight.

I hate the smell of my hair burning. That's just one more reason why I prefer to drink alone.

"Aw, man! That was a quarter!"

* * *

The kitchen, unlike my hair, smells delightful. It's the kind of smell that draws you in; as if your nose has told your eyes they've got to see this, so let's bag the brain and drag it in there. 

Ostensibly, I go to refill my glass.

* * *

Open Fridge, Glass in Hand. 

"It's nearly ready, so don't spoil your appetite." Hakkai has the oven door open, a little welding mask covering his face. He hauls on a rope, and incomprehensible wires, pulleys and winches sway the puff pastry out onto a waiting rack.

Some kind of savory pie? Pie for dinner, not just dessert?

Fill glass... halfway. Conserve taste buds for pie.

It's not like I can't come back for more. After all, the bottle's still too heavy for Gojyo to pour.

* * *

Small, desperately hungry hands efficiently set the table. Proficient mouths consume inhuman quantities of food. Inquisitive minds ask, "What's for desert?" 

And get wapped on the head with a brand new paper fan.

"Nothing if you knock me again, goddamn monkey!"

* * *

It's not pie. You see, we had pie for dinner: tasty, filling, savory pie. We can't have pie for dessert as well; there's some kind of cosmic _rule_ about that. No, dessert is some kind of crumble. Maybe even better than pie, if that's feasible. I shall need a larger sample to do further studies on. 

Disproportionately fat stomachs protrude from already round chibi waistlines. I wonder about chibi cholesterol and how the Heimlich Maneuver is done on something so small.

Thankfully, such expertise is not necessary. These are experienced eaters; professional, almost. I suppose it's a matter of knowing how to pack it.

Or... maybe it goes to that place they pull things out of? Where it turns into other things. Things like flowers...

Those chrysanthemums are holding up beautifully, especially since Goku discovered that they weren't edible.

* * *

"Another piece?" 

Desperately try to convince my stomach of the benefits of more. Stomach counters with an ugly picture of Death from Dessert Overdose. Self-control is reluctantly enforced.

"Couldn't eat another bite, thank you. I could sleep right here..."

"Oh, you're very welcome." Hakkai hands the remaining slice to Goku, who celebrates his gluttonous victory then digs in. "I suppose we should find a way to amuse ourselves quietly, if you're tired." Hakkai says this so ordinarily, when it can really be only slightly easier than performing brain surgery with ones tongue while humming 'Louie Louie'.

* * *

"We could play cards. It's been a while since Hakkai took all our money." Gojyo sounds surprisingly happy about this. Hakkai does seem to use that money to finance his cookie baking activities, so I suppose it's not all bad for the losers. "Pack of cards anywhere?" Apparently this prop is essential enough to make it impossible to pull it from behind ones back. Or it could be that they just like making me hunt for stuff. Either way... 

"Y..." My mind involuntarily flashes back to my last occasion of forced child-minding at the bidding of distant, yet fertile, kin. Thanks to the dear hellspawn's paper eating/flushing/otherwise-abusing habits, my deck has 27 cards. No sixes. None at all.

"No. Sorry." Sorry I ever let the little buggers through the door. Or their parents, for that matter.

* * *

Contemplative, even ruminant, looks surround my table. "Mahjong tiles would be right out then, I suppose." Hakkai ventures with hardly a glimmer of hope. 

The heavens alone know what they would have done to my house with plastic or porcelain in their juvenile armory. "Uh, no."

* * *

The air above the table takes on an odd, sparkly aura. My prescient brain suggests running, but my over-fed stomach overrides this command by sitting heavily above my... center of gravity. 

The Lightning of Cute strikes Goku.

"You could read us a story!"

* * *

Everyone stares at him, then quickly looks away to gaze uncomfortably at the ceiling, walls, crumbs, etc. Except for Permanently Cutified Kougaiji who just picks his incongruously pointy teeth as if this made perfect Chibi Sense. 

"Um... yes. I suppose she _could_..." Hakkai eventually breaks the fidgety silence.

"Maybe..." Gojyo mumbles, examining his fork.

"That's a little... out of character, isn't it?" My nervous laugh sounds painful even to me, as I try to weasel out of public speaking like... a weasel... in a weasel trap.

* * *

"Well, Sanzo does read his Sutra quite often." Hakkai reasons. 

"To kill stuff, yes." I try to discount this evidence. I mean, does that really count as entertainment? Should it?

"And the paper. Sometimes we get a piece of it once Sanzo's done with it. It's got... pictures. And personal ads." Gojyo rationalizes, qualifies and distracts.

"It'll be great!" Goku has now fully earthed the chibi-lightning, attaining to unheard of sparkliness. "We can all sit on the couch, and you can read to us. Maybe even mrrfghh!"

Gojyo tries to save Goku from his own cuteness by stuffing him into an empty pot and putting the lid on it.

"Don't mention cuddles! Don't even _think_ about cuddles!"

* * *

My eye twitches. "Excuse me." Must get to fridge. More rum. Now. 

There is a rumbling from Extra-Happy-Buddha-Shaped Sanzo. He had been quietly contemplating the true meaning of dessert, but now he brings forth a comment on the current situation.

"I get to pick the book."

As sparkly and blurry eyes all focus, or attempt to focus, on the unexpected monking, Goku's voice echoes from inside the pot: "It'll be _great_!"

* * *

There's no helping it. I'm going to need a full glass. And maybe refills.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Youkai-Hakkai ravaged the chair in Chapter 11. Yea, verily, it was cute, but he didn't have a pattern of hearts and stars all over him instead of leaves as Kanan the Mischievous Goat suggested. That would have been very cute indeed. 

The flowers arrived in chapter 15.

I'm using more continuity lately. That's because I've got a plot all ready to go, and I don't want to spring that kind of mental exercise on you without a run-up.


	24. Part 24: In Which There Are Arrangements

**Part 24: In Which There Are Arrangements**

The little creeps are perversely quick about cleaning up and herding me to the couch. I feel like an elephant surrounded by fluffy little cats... that will eat me if I trip. Though given the size of the meal they just ate, I doubt they'd have room.

* * *

Flop gracelessly on couch. Gaze with resignation at the piles on piles of books littering every semi-flat space. Hope for... I don't know, something easy. And clean: I can't say bad words with your huge eyes staring up at me. Easy and clean. Please, _please_ don't pick the _Iliad_. 

Please, _please_ don't pull my hair...

Rearrange Kougaiji, to the tune of "Wuv You!"

* * *

Hakkai helpfully holds my hair aside while the Little Prince gets settled... nearly giving me a heart attack due to Unexpected Appearance on Shoulder(#). Under 20 Pounds? Does he weigh anything at all? 

Or maybe I really am a hunchback...

Please, _please_ don't pick Victor Hugo. I'm depressed enough as it is.

* * *

It seems that "on the couch" is Chibi-Speak for "on you" when referring to seating arrangements. Since the upper levels are full, Goku and Gojyo fight briefly over "sides", then crowd so close that "side" becomes a technical term. 

I wonder what kind of training one needs to qualify as furniture?

The only chibi with any remaining sense of personal space is Sanzo, who tosses a book at me, then sits on the furthest arm of the couch and opens the paper. I grasp at the notion that there are some personality traits that even this bizarre transformation can't change.

* * *

Sanzo's pick from the huge and dusty (despite Hakkai's best efforts) assortment: 

... has a kitten on the front.

A kitten. In a tree.

* * *

_Blink_.

* * *

"The Little Kitten Who Could," must have been left here by the last 'little people' that ransacked my house. The ones who ate my cards. 

"Do you have enough light?" Hakkai plays with the lampshade, wearing it as a hat as he adjusts the bulb.

"Here, I'll hold your drink." Move rum out of reach of Gojyo's 'helping' hands, provoking the addition of, "Dammit."

"This is gonna be great!" Goku repeats, eyes still sparkling wildly.

* * *

Anyone left who hasn't gotten his two cents in yet? Eyes right to see if Kougaiji needs to make a comical comment before I start. 

"Heeee..."

Well, at least he's quiet. Staring, clingy, ever-present and still static-filled, but quiet.

* * *

"What the hell is taking so long? I don't have all night." Sanzo rustles the paper grouchily. 

Look at the book.

Don't look at the monk.

Whatever you do, don't look at Mr. Crabbypants. He's got a gun. And he likes kittens.

* * *

Sigh. 

Even my hallucinations are crazy.

"Once upon a time..."

* * *

(#)_Footnote_: 

UAS or Unexpected Appearance on Shoulder kills hundreds of unfortunate people each decade. Help find a cure for the chibi-afflicted!

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Sorry about the delay: It wasn't due to lack of material, I've got plenty of this in my crabby handwriting in binders. It's due to my hatred of typing. And laziness. 

Anyway, I've written the first 4 chapters of a sequel to this story called **Chibis Gone Wild!**... which I'm thinking about posting along with this one. Which sounds weird, but after the next 2 chapters of this one it should be spoiler-free: it's mainly the characters reactions to these events after their return to full-size in Togenkyo. If you think posting it's a good idea, you want to read it, let me know.


	25. Part 25: In Which There is Suspicion

**When Chibis Attack! **

**Part 25: In Which There is Suspicion**

Two paragraphs, and the corresponding two pages, later, Hakkai interrupts my oratory - by falling head-first onto my lap.

He's out like a light. But the light is still on, so I suppose he's out not at all like a light.

* * *

Shift book higher. Try to read. 

Snoring commences.

* * *

Check lap: Hakkai isn't snoring; Gojyo is. Goku is providing harmonious nasal backup, even though he has somehow managed to turn upside-down in his sleep. 

To my right, Kougaiji is not only sleeping, but wearing his nightcap, and tucked in to my hair. Not to mention drooling on me and mumbling about cookies.

* * *

Could this be the secret to disabling chibis? Is this really the way to return peace and silence to my house? 

"What's the hold up? Get on with the reading."

No, of course not. That would be too easy.

Sanzo glares at me over the lowered newspaper. There is a general indication that there will be Trouble if we don't find out how the kitten got out of the tree, and quickly.

* * *

"But... they're snoring. You see. And in the way." I gesture helplessly at the four-part Snore Harmony Choir. 

"Then toss them somewhere."

Glance down at Hakkai. His fluffy teddy bear is firmly gripped to his little round chest.

"I'll just... put them away. I mean, to bed. You know."

"Then be quick about it!"

My patience snaps like a fatally worn bungee cord: "You could help, you know!" I snap, and toss the book on the couch definitively.

* * *

Sanzo heaves the Sigh of the Much Put Upon. Wonder where he learned it from, since he couldn't have come by it naturally. He folds up The Chibi Times, stomps across the couch and grabs Goku by the leg. 

"You'll wake him u-" Goku thuds against the ground, only to be dragged down the hall by the Grumpiest Monk. My words of concern elicit nothing but a dismissive, "Ha!" from Sanzo.

Goku's snoring doesn't even falter.

* * *

Gather up the remaining personifications of cuteness. Follow Sanzo: Goku bounces unconsciously along behind him, only to be tossed into my sock drawer. Sanzo then stalks out past me, shooting an incongruously sparkly Death Glare at me on the way by. 

I'd better hurry, or... uh. Trouble. Lots of Trouble.

* * *

Tuck Hakkai in to his neatly-made camp bed. Reluctant to drop Gojyo in to my underwear drawer, I search for a better option. 

An unusually helpful idea occurs to me that seems to kill two birds with one stone. As if it was birds what needed killin'.

Tuck Gojyo into my bed, carefully spreading his hair over the pillow. Untangle Kougaiji from my hair. Tangle him in Gojyo's.

* * *

I wonder how long that'll fool them? 

I wonder where _I'm_ going to sleep tonight?

Affordable local hotel?

They would follow me. I know they would.

* * *

Sanzo is waiting, impatiently, on the couch. 

Ignore him and his tapping foot. Sit. Open book.

Read two more paragraphs. Pause to treat my vocal cords with alcohol therapy.

"Then what happened? Not that I care..."

Sanzo has migrated from the far end of the couch to Not Touching! distance(#). The Paper remains open, but it seems to be upside-down.

Put great effort in to ignoring the Mini-Monk, and all facts concerning the paper. Fuel the effort with rum, an efficient and natural fuel.

* * *

After a few more pages, pause again for supplementary alcohol. 

The glass drained empty, surviving concentration tries to return to the book, only to be blown off course by the chibi sitting on my lap.

* * *

"Uh. Are you..." Sick? Crazy? Out of Character? 

"What? I can't see the goddamn book from over there." Sanzo crosses his arms and glowers up at me over his reading glasses. "And don't even _think_ about hugging me! Instant _death_."

* * *

Character remains. Chibiism distorts. 

Rum enables.

Drink.

Read.

* * *

"The Little Kitten and his Kitten Friends loved their new home, and lived happily ever after." 

Close the book.

"Uh... The End?" I add, in an effort to prompt chibi evacuation.

"Hmph," Sanzo snorts. But it's an approving snort, and he uncrosses his arms and takes the book out of my hands. "Not a bad story..."

"Um... Yes. Plenty of..."

"Kittens." Sanzo finishes. "And a happy ending. Not that they even happen like that in reality. Still, kittens should have happy endings."

"...yes." I can only agree. Not final trips to the vet, or close encounters with cars. Only happy endings, in which they inflict mild flesh wounds on helpless owners for the rest of eternity.

Come to think of it, the certainly shouldn't get cuddled to death by certain chibis that will remain unnamed for not-getting-shot purposes.

* * *

Yawn artificially, followed by the genuine article. "Well, bed time, I gue-" 

It's the briefest movement that draws my eye. Four heads are peeking around the corner. Four pairs of eyes have just caught the Legendary Grumpy Monk in a situation that is suspiciously cuddle-like.

Four huge, sparkling pairs of eyes vanish, and the sound of little, round feet flying up the hall is followed only by...

Well, by Sanzo, cursing and shooting at them, pausing only to refresh the caps in his Kiss & Hugson.

* * *

Sigh.

* * *

Sleep time for me, too, I guess. 

Wander up the hallway in the hope of finding a flat surface and a piece of blanket.

* * *

(#)Footnote: Any parent will be familiar with Not Touching! distance, and even those young enough to remember family car trips will know precisely how far it is.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Sorry for the delay, but I'm trying to get **Chibis Gone Wild!** up and posted. You can get at it from my profile, if it's up. If not, keep checking back. It'll post soon. 

A quick warning, though: It begins with the full-sized characters - there will be cuteness, but also irony, and (most importantly) they will do the things that those four reprobates do. Hence, I have raised the rating. I'll try very hard to keep the language down, without sacrificing character. If bad words appear, it's Sanzo's fault. He's just... like that.

Anyway, I'll look forward to seeing what you think of it. I'm posting it because you said please! Man, I love you guys...


	26. Part 26: In Which There is Confusion

**Part 26: In Which There is Confusion**

In the thick blackness of the night, two shadows separate from the body of the greater dark and move towards each other. They whisper their conversation:

"Did you get the stuff?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. But it was tough..."

"So what? You're getting as much out of this as I am. Hand it over."

"I did all the bloody work! I'm not just..."

"Quiet, idiot! They'll hear us."

* * *

Furtive glances check for signs of apprehension, and after a few, breathless moments, the clandestine activity resumes.

A sulphurous flare, and the candle is lit, throwing huge shadows about the room. The two figures remain just outside the candle's glow.

"I can't get the lid off."

"Like I said, hand it over."

"Crap. Whatever, like you're going to -"

* * *

A popping noise instead of an answer, and a white lid skitters across the floor.

"Nice."

"Hmph."

"Go on. Do it, then."

"Don't rush me."

"Sure, sure, but we don't have all night."

* * *

The silence bristles for a moment, then a hand plunges into the container, and a fistful of its contents is removed.

The container is set on the floor between the two, then the hand extends ceremonially in to the circle of light.

A quick toss, and the air shimmers.

* * *

"Hee hee... a-hem!" Giggling is coughed silent in the dark.

"My turn, my turn!"

"Go ahead. Just be quiet, you moron!"

* * *

Again: a hand from the container to the firelight; a toss, and shimmering light in the air.

"Hee hee hee!"

"Give me those!"

Two hands in the circle at once, and, for a brief moment, there is nothing but shimmering, sparkling light.

* * *

Suddenly, on comes the kitchen light, bathing the scene in blinding, confusing light.

"What are you two doing up at this time of night?" Hakkai demands from the countertop, his hand still on the switch.

* * *

Gojyo and Sanzo attempt to snuff a candle, put out their cigarettes and hide the container, all at once. The ensuing confusion results in wax in the hair, slight scorching of clothing and the linoleum, and yet more of the container's contents flying into the air.

All three chibis stand momentarily transfixed, as the sparkles flutter around them.

"Tsk. I obviously didn't hide them well enough. Hand them over and clean up, then." Hakkai tears his eyes away from the scintillations in order to scold the perpetrators.

"Not gonna!"

The defiant sparkle thieves set the container carefully behind them, and prepare to fight.

* * *

Hakkai simply stands, arms folded, on the counter. His monocle flashes nefariously, and he intones:

"If you don't clean that up right now, I'll go tell everyone how cute you're being. You'll probably be cuddled _to death_!"

"No... not that..." Sanzo backs away, shaking.

"Anything but... wait, that doesn't sound too ba-"

"Just clean it up, Gojyo. You can make a card tomorrow."

"Aw, man..."

* * *

Salvageable sparkles are returned to their container. Things are tidied away and neatened up.

After the others are verifiably in bed, Hakkai moves the sparkles to a new secret location.

He has only one sparkly accident on the way.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

What a responsible young chibi.

Never fear! Posting of the sequel **Chibis Gone Wild!** does not mean that this story is ending. I just wanted you all to know that even when this one does end, all will not be lost. It will flow (hopefully), right in to the next one. But as for now, I've got mountains of this stuff. No need to worry.

And I'm glad to know this story seems to be making the world a cuter place. Apparently Sekowari met a kid who was Hug-ry, and TheCheapTickets had a glitter accident while making a **Team Sparkle** shirt. This makes me happy. Very happy indeed. And somehow... cuddly?

My Team Sparkle hat will say "Hug Wrangler" on the back... or perhaps "Chibi-in-Chief". So hard to decide!


	27. Part 27: In Which the Odd One's Out

**When Chibis Attack! **

**Part 27: In Which the Odd One's Out**

In the Flower Garden of Wonderland, everything is out of proportion. Fighting through these huge stalks and leaves, just walking leaves me sweating and breathless. The plants are so supple, they bend with each passing breeze aloft; but they're so enormous, the swaying knocks me off my feet again and again.

Finally, an open expanse! The hilly, dusty earth stretches away, lifeless and gullied and stark.

Then, this rumbling like a herd of elephants - planet-sized elephants! - and a mad rush of wind throws me to the ground. When I'm brave enough to look up, the empty plain is dark, eclipsed by an enormous green structure, rising from four wide, black and silver supports.

* * *

Hide or scream? My voice is... stuck. And my feet won't go.

* * *

Immense, white hands reach down and pluck me from the hilltop. I fight against them, but they draw me up into the great green structure effortlessly. 

The galactic elephants re-start their invisible rampage, but this time the wind is left behind, banished outside of the alien green structure.

* * *

Giants' faces gaze at me, and I try to hide behind a protrusion. Barely understandable voices boom out, far above my head: 

"Thank goodness you saw her!" one colossus says to the other. "I could have hit the poor thing, otherwise."

"Aww..." The other titan leans down over me, and there is no hiding from those golden eyes! Its voice thunders over me from its cavernous mouth, "Can we keep her? Huh?"

"Now, now, they're not pets..."

"Yeah, yeah! We could name her Betty!" Red hair, as thick as ropes, brushes against me, knocking me sideways. I barely keep on my feet.

* * *

"It's not a kitten, you moron!" The resounding chastisement of yet another god echoes through my skull. The wind from its white Tool of Divine Punishment almost blows me away, even though its fury is directed against the previous two gods who claimed ownership of me. "It probably already has a name." 

Long, white hands once again enfold me, pulling me forwards, raising me up to Olympian heights. Up, into the pounding sun; up, towards yet more immense eyes. Staring at me, through me; I can't get away from them! I wonder what sins are written on me, to be read by those orchid eyes? I'll stop drinking! I'll cut right back! I'll never buy racy bishonen manga again!

* * *

Out cry the voices of the Titans of the Back Seat: 

"Hey, Sanzo! Can we keep her? Please?"

"I've always wanted a Chibi!"

* * *

Sweat-soaked and gasping for breath, I snap upright, nearly lunging out of bed. 

Close eyes. Breathe. Breathe again.

One more breath...

"Hewp!"

* * *

Kougaiji is tangled in my hair. 

Untangle.

Give him a vaguely sympathetic look. Graciously accept proffered hugs.

Flop backwards, and slip into the dreamless sleep of Qualified Furniture.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

The Experimental Chapter... OOOooooOOOOooo... 

Hey, there's always a dream sequence, right?

My **Team Sparkle** hat... I think I'll put "Cuddle Expert" on the back. If I can get the letters to fit. It's all very complicated.

...and if anyone ever wants to do a doujinshi of this, just let me know. I have _ideas_...


	28. Part 28: In Which Memory Serves

_ Dr. McNinja does not belong to me. Neither does the chair I am sitting on._

**Part 28:In Which Memory Serves**

My kitchen is, once again, full of exploding pigs.

I mean chibis. Not exploding ones; ones frying bits of unexploded pig, the smell of which drifts gently through the house, dragging even the most hung-over out of bed.

What do they put in that stuff that makes it smell so good?

* * *

A repetitive formula seems to be developing, as if a set pattern of comedy is required for mornings. Hakkai cooks, and is generally helpful. The others get in the way and break my things. 

I suppose it's a worthwhile trade. At least this way I get a good breakfast.

* * *

Sanzo, momentarily refraining from breaking stuff, is reading the paper. Not the sane, big paper, with its stories about wars and diseases; he's reading the Chibi Times. I wonder who delivers it? A very little person on a very little bicycle? 

Today's bold headline reads: "Vicious Attack!"

The story follows: "Victims are receiving treatment after a series of Attempted Snugglings yesterday. According to reports, the assailant snuck up  
behind each victim, apparently at random, and the vicious Snuggling took place in broad daylight."

"Police are looking for someone with a warm blanket and a very big smile."

* * *

Coffee. 

I need coffee. And those pill-

Shi... oot!

* * *

"I remember what I forgot!" I'm such a moron! "I mean, I forgot, but I... remembered what I forgot to remember. That is, I..." ... drift off. 

Hakkai gently sets a cup of coffee into my widely gesturing hand.

"Sit down, dear, before you hurt yourself."

I follow instructions.

Which is exactly what I forgot to do yesterday.

* * *

"**Take With Food**" it says on the container. I took plenty of food, but none of the damn pills! 

"I forgot my pills." Mumble aloud, with only slightly more clarity despite the coffee infusion. Immediately regret my confession when all eyes focus intently on me.

"Well that explains _everything_." Sanzo sneers, then returns to reading up on Snuggle-Proofing tips for the Thinking Chibi.

* * *

"That's what I was going to say..." I may as well think aloud anyway. After all, why bother trying to save face in front of people who don't exist? "Except, I don't think they're meant to prevent hallucinations." 

"Hmmm..." Hakkai re-fills my coffee, with a look of genuine concern on his little, round face. "Have you been having hallucinations?"

* * *

My eye. It's twitching. 

What were those pills for, anyway? Did they prevent this nasty eye-twitch? Or were they meant to stop hallucinations from getting cute with me?

Either way, this could be the easy, edible solution I've been looking for.

* * *

Consume "**Food**". 

Open bottle on table to "**Take With**".

Empty?

No pills here.

* * *

Microwave, alternative pill-storage site. 

This bottle is empty.

No pills anywhere.

* * *

"Oh!" Hakkai smacks his adorable little forehead. "You need to refill your prescriptions. I noticed they were empty yesterday, but I forgot to..." 

"I'm out of refills." That's what it says on the bottle. Sabotage? Are they sabotaging my sanity?

Look a Hakkai. Facial expression: Totally TrustworthyTM.

He speaks: "You had better make an appointment right away, then."

"Aw, Hakkai, what's the rush? She's doing pretty good without them..." Gojyo's facial expression: Totally Untrustworthy, but Not Sneaky About It (patent pending in Chibigenkyo). He might steal my underpants for his evil plans, but not my pills.

"Now, Gojyo," Hakkai is the chibi Voice of Reason. "You don't know what they're for. They might be... blood pressure pills or something."

"She's a head case. It's obvious." Dr. McSanzo MD provides an immediate diagnosis. The little jerk.

"Yes, but she might have other conditions that need treatment." Yeah! See, Hakkai's got it... wait. What does he mean, 'yes, but'?

Dammit.

* * *

Pick up phone. Dial. 

Receptionist is way too happy.

I bet she's medicated.

"Yeah, hi." My own automated response. "I need an appointment."

"And the reason for your visit?"

Look slowly around the kitchen: Hakkai has built a fortress out of toast to protect himself from Goku and Gojyo's latest food throwing/spraying argument. The Entertainment section of today's Chibi Times features the movie _Pulp FanFiction_.

The article reads, "He wanted all the hugs to himself. Everyone knew he was too cute to stop. They needed a plan..."

Apparently it all ends in cuddles.

* * *

"Uh..." How exactly can I put that without the cops showing up outside? "I'm out of all my pills. And I'm seeing things. Little people. They won't go away. And they redecorated my bathroom." 

Is the line dead? It's awfully quiet down there.

"Have you been drinking?" Ah, she knows me so well. Or it's written on my file. Whichever, that reminds me...

"Good point." Top up half-empty coffee with rum from the fridge. Sip as quietly as possible. "Mmm. Bit better. But I still think I need to come in for the pills. Can I?"

"...yes. Yes, you can."

"Kay. Uh... see you in a bit then."

"No more alcohol!" The not-so-cheerful receptionist screeches before I can hang up. "You're driving. No drinking!"

* * *

Silence. 

The chibis are staring at me.

Ignore them.

Smile sweetly at the phone. "No problem. Bye." Hang up. "I'll just take the bus." Finish the sentence to a dead line.

Except the bus stop is so far away. And it's cold outside. And the chibis are staring at me.

My own hallucinations don't believe I can do it.

* * *

_Sigh_.

* * *

I guess it's just coffee, then. For now.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Well, I hope this chapter goes over a little better than the last one... And here I thought you guys would like the reversal of our chibified narrator being picked up by the guys in their jeep. 

Ah, well. The audience is a tough master...

**By the Way**: This story is nowhere near over. You'll know when it's actually over, (and when I will move over to posting Chibis Gone Wild only) because the Chibis will be **back in Togenkyo** and **back to Full Size**. Until then, it ain't over!

There's a plot a'comin in! Wait for it...


	29. Part 29: In Which Company Comes

**Part 29: In Which Company Comes**

Non-alcoholic coffee has the bitter taste of disappointment. Laugh it off, in the face of the huge eyes staring at me:

"Cut it out, you little leeches. It's too early to be drinking anyway." I see a hat passed among them, slips of paper. Are they taking a pool? Are they betting on when I'll break? Little bastards!

"Then what did you just..."

"Shut it!" Whack Goku on the head with a rolled up piece of the paper to silence his painfully obvious observation. This makes me feel oddly... happy? Satisfied? It's so enjoyable, think about whacking him again. Is this why Sanzo's always...

... glaring at me. Over a half-lowered newspaper.

* * *

I doubt he's worried about Goku. No, someone whacking Goku doesn't bother him at all... but I doubt anyone survives for long after stealing his shtick.

* * *

"Sorry, sorry, whatever, here, have my toast." Cede toast to Goku. Is that enough penance for you, Mr. Nasty Looks? 

"Yay!" Sanzo's newspaper returns to its previous position as Goku does the Dance of Free Food. I breathe carefully.

* * *

"Hmmm..." Hakkai is still looking at me, a worried expression on his face. "I would offer to drive you to your appointment, but I can't reach the pedals at the moment." 

"Oh, come on!" Exasperation takes its toll. "I drank less than an ounce, and it'll be ages before we leave. I leave. Whatever, point is, it'll be out of my system by then." I'm sober, dammit! Believe me, I would know. And it sucks!

"It's not so much that," Hakkai continues. "It's these hallucinations you say you're having. Are you sure you should be driving when you're seeing things?"

* * *

How do you answer that? 

Seriously now, what do you say to that?

* * *

"I suppose I could sit on your lap... no, I still couldn't see over the dash." 

"... it's fine, Hakkai."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, very sure."

"As long as you're sure."

* * *

I could really use a drink to help me deal with this whole not drinking thing. Or the hallucinations offering to drive because I'm hallucinating. Or something. 

The pills will help. They have to.

* * *

It takes me a while to figure out where the Big People shower went to, even though some of the previous bathroom retro-fitting has apparently been undone. A few allowances have been made for Persons of Height. 

Nonetheless, I can't stop looking at the tiny, colorful back brushes and towel sets. And that damn fig tree. How the hell did they get that sucker in here? It's bigger than the door.

Thank goodness Kougaiji is faithfully patrolling outside. I dread to think what that tree might do to me if Gojyo tried to peep in.

* * *

Need a drink. 

Or not. Not really. Really, not really.

Well, I _do_ need a drink, but the drink I need is coffee. Nice, fresh coffee. How long until that bloody appointment? Maybe they'll get me in sooner if I show up early.

Someone is standing outside my front door, yelling, "Ding-dong! Ding-dong!"

* * *

This seems silly, even given the current situation. 

Twitch front curtain aside, wary of anyone who could be so silly at this time of the morning.

It is Mr. W. Collar, my immediate excuse for management. That explains it. Anyone who would hire me, let alone let me work from home must be a little silly.

Glance at the Little Sillies gathered around my kitchen table.

"I have to let him in. He gives me money, and I need money. Go hide."

* * *

Begrudging murmured acknowledgement, and they meander off in different directions. Sanzo pulls out his cigarettes and lighter, and I curse at him as he walks into the bathroom. He gives me the chibi equivalent of The Finger, which would be more appropriately called The Mitten. 

When they are no longer directly in my line of sight, I open the door.

This interrupts Mr. Collar in mid- "Ding do-"

"Yeah."

"Oh, hey! You're... awake! I hope I didn't interrupt anything. Your doorbell's broken, you know."

"Really."

* * *

He steps past me, inside. It has never ceased to amaze me how this man, who is technically my boss, treats my house like a rather messy office, to be entered at will. While it has a coffee maker, and the teaspoons disappear fairly regularly, I don't think my house is fit to be a public place. The smell of booze should have clued him in to this by now. Booze and laundry. 

Or maybe that's just my lack-of-alcohol talking.

Or lack of pills. Yeah. That probably makes a big difference, lack of pills.

* * *

"Man, I tell you, did I ever have to get up early to get all the way out here. Couldn't even pick up breakfast. But I didn't want to get all the way out here, just to find you were already... out." I'm not sure I like the sound of that. It seems to hint at something other than mid-morning appointments. "Is that coffee. It smells great." 

If you wait long enough, eventually people will tell you what to do. Why bother thinking?

"I'll get you some."

* * *

He follows me into the kitchen. Why do people keep following me? Do I have 'Leader' written on my back? 'Sucker' seems more likely. 

"What do you take?"

"Oh, cream, sugar, snacks, whatever you've got."

"I'll see what I've got."

Open the fridge, take a bottle of whitener from Goku.

* * *

"Uh, sorry, say again?" I try to re-focus on the missing bits of conversation, as Goku, smiling guiltily, re-wraps the ham he was carving and returns it to its drawer. 

"I said, what's new? What's up?" A full-sized person is talking. I must think full-sized thoughts, and ignore that big bottle of r-

Close the fridge door.

"Nothing." I say firmly. "Nothing's new around here. Very boring. And sane."

Mr. W. Collar laughs, fiddling with the newspapers. Give him coffee, surreptitiously shuffling the Chibi Times to the bottom of the pile.

"This is great coffee. Makes the whole place smell like breakfast."

* * *

Feeding people is not something I do often. Generally, people take one look at my kitchen and decide they aren't hungry. Curse Hakkai's penchant for neatness! 

"I think I have some... thing. Something." A cursory examination of the table shows that the chibis have a No Food Left Behind policy vis a vis breakfast.

"Oh, don't trouble yourself!" he says in a 'go ahead, trouble yourself' tone of voice.

"No problem." I say in what I hope is a 'I like my job very much' tone.

* * *

Back behind the counter, the bread box slides open. Hakkai hands me a bagel, neatly sliced and adorned with cream cheese, then slides the box shut again. 

Whatever his Clean Kitchen policy is responsible for, my appreciation for the Lean, Green Snack-Making Machine is once again renewed. Yes, Chibi Cho Hakkai: smaller than most appliances, but with hundreds of functions and built-in hugs. Warning: May destroy some furniture.

* * *

"Thanks, that's awesome!" Mr. Collar accepts my providential bagel. "You really go above and beyond, you know that? Above and beyond. I always appreciated that about you." 

If there's any truth to that statement, it's so far above my head that it's completely beyond me.

After all, I bet he doesn't even remember my name.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

And that answers the age-old question: Are they bigger than a bread box? No, they aren't. 

I am unreliable. You should know this by now.

That and I wore out my fingers playing video games. Took a while to heal enough to type.

Next time: Gags!


	30. Part 30: In Which the Gag Plays Out

**Part 30: In Which the Gag Plays Out**

Polite conversation. I hate it.

"What are you here for, anyway?" Was that too obvious?

"That file, you know, the blue one. And I wanted to see how you were doing with number five." He sounds so hopeful, as if I were not a drunk that he has unwisely employed.

Desperately dig through the Fuzzy Sock Drawer of Memory. Recall yesterday's brief burst of productivity. Rejoice.

* * *

"I have those! They're done!" 

"Oh... wow!" I don't know who's more surprised, him or me. "That's amazing! I mean, fantastic. Today's going to go a lot easier than I thought." Any day you don't have to justify hiring a lazy drunk is a good day, I bet. "I'll just get those and be on my way. Uh... do you mind if I use your washroom first?"

"Down the hall, on your left!" Even my directions are cheerful. Then the recent remodeling of the bathroom emerges from the Sock Drawer. "Uh... I've been doing some repairs in there, though."

"I'll watch for holes in the floor." And his voice disappears into the loo.

* * *

That tobacco-sucking monk had better have opened a window. Or at least hit the fan. I'm sure there was a lower set of switches when I was in there last. Mysterious little switches. 

"Is it safe yet?" Goku echoes from inside the fridge, startling me.

"No. Please be quiet, Goku." The bread box scolds the fridge. "I'll tell you when you can come out. And don't eat that ham!"

"But!"

"Don't. Now be quiet, he's - shhh!"

* * *

As if cued by some cosmic director in the situation comedy that passes for my life, Mr. Collar exits my bathroom. 

Mad dash to desk. Search heaps of paper for files: Blue, number 5. Kougaiji.

Crap!

* * *

Kougaiji is not hiding. He is sitting on my desk, in his favorite sunbeam, smiling happily and drawing stickmen on a blank sheet of paper. 

Consider screaming. Nix it as overly dramatic. Likewise reject tears, beatings, and burning the place down.

* * *

"Aww... another cute doll!" Mr. Collar looks over my shoulder. 

I panic.

Thankfully, my version of panic is the Lazy Man's Version: Remain completely still and hope that the universe will realize its mistake and will return you to your regularly scheduled life as soon as possible.

Kougaiji appears to be following the same course, even his adorable smile fixed glassily on his face.

Mr. Collar picks him up.

* * *

Behind that smile are a lot of very pointy teeth. I begin to sweat profusely.

* * *

"There's a lot of detail on the little guy. Where'd you get him?" Mr. Collar turns Kougaiji this way and that. Upside down. 

"Yeah. That place! On the. By. The store. The big one. You know." Sweat vanquishing my antiperspirant, soaking through my shirt. Tomorrow's headlines appear before my eyes: 'Man eaten by doll! Former employee drowns in own sweat!'

"Oh." Mr. Collar's eyes are now fixed on me, which is a relief, since they're no longer on the suspiciously fidgety doll, who is making a face at being held upside down. However, now I'm expected to say something to somehow prove that I am not a drunken nut with a suspicious bathroom and oddly cute dolls.

How to prove sanity... a ha!

* * *

Hold out files. Try not to sing the Hallelujah Chorus. 

"Files! All done!" When you don't have proof, use distraction. Court TV has taught me this.

"Oh, right. Thanks." His suspicion is overwhelmed by joy at finding productivity in such an unlikely place. His surprise, combined with reaching for the folders, provides the perfect opportunity for bait-and-switch hostage freeing of the Naughty Little Prince.

* * *

Kougaiji latches on to my arm as if instinctively certain that I will send him home with this strange man if I can pry him off. There is a chance he may be right. 

"Well, mid-morning appointments, you know." I smile, trying to herd Mr. Collar out the door. He resist me for a gut-wrenching moment.

"You know, my sister collects dolls from all over the world. That's some amazing workmanship on your collection, though. I had no idea you had a hobby." What, he thought my only hobby was drinking? Alas, those happy times have passed...

* * *

Laugh nervously. Try to stop Kougaiji from cutting off circulation to my arm. 

"Ah. It's a new thing for me. Pain in the ass, really." My hand tingles and goes cold. Kougaiji is sending Morse Code directly up my nerves: 'Pwease, Mummy, I'll be good...' "...but, I've gotten into it now." A little feeling returns to my pinky. "Yeah. Wouldn't have it any other way." Index finger, reporting for duty!

"I see. Fascinating."

"Ha ha. Yes. Anyway, don't want to make you late."

"Oh, right. Good job, by the way."

"Thanks." Wave remaining arm, backing inside. "Bye bye!"

Slam.

* * *

Lean against the door. 

Wait until the sound of his engine has faded away down the street.

Wait a bit more.

Breathe.

* * *

Remove Kougaiji. 

"You were supposed to be hiding."

"I wuz hidink."

"On the desk."

"It's a mice pwace to hide."

"I bet. Nice and sunny."

* * *

Kougaiji nods happily. He holds up a picture of him and 'Mummy' walking in the park. There is a big, spiky castle in the background, with a puppy beside it. 

Try to muster up a good scold.

Fail.

"...yeah. That's nice. Go stick it on the fridge. And let Goku out while you're there."

I need a new shirt, before I drown in my own quickly-cooling sweat.

* * *

Stop dead in my tracks. 

Sanzo storming out of the bathroom. Literally. A small thunder cloud roils above his head, flashing miniature lightning.

He has his own weather system. He's pissed enough to have a meteorological effect.

"Problem?" Keep face and voice as neutral as possible.

Sanzo stops, tiny fists in tight balls. He glares up at me, and faint thunder rolls.

"That. Bastard. Used. ME. As a Hand TOWEL!"

* * *

Suddenly, it's all worth it. All the stress. Everything. 

Nothing wrong with a little suffering, as long as it's spread around. Especially spread on those soft, white robes.

Must keep face straight! Life depends on it!

* * *

Grab a fresh shirt. Stop just short of stripping off, alerted by two suspicious antennae sticking out of my partly-closed underwear drawer. 

Yank.

"So... has he gone yet?" Gojyo inquires, hands in his pockets, as he dangles from my grip. _Of course_ he would have closed his eyes while I changed...

"Yes."

"You two... involved?" He picks at his nails, trying to look nonchalant, despite dangling by the antennae.

"No."

"And that sister he mentioned, is she..."

Toss out door... fairly gently.

After all, Sanzo was just used as a hand towel. That adds up to a good day, however you count it.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Thank you all so much for your continued reviewing and support! This story gets written regardless, as it turned up fully formed in my head; but I actually get off my lazy ass and type it up when I see it's being read. 

I really hate typing.

And I live in a nice house with a finished basement. I share it with two full-sized housemates. I actually love doing laundry, and never have more than one drink a day.

This should clue you in that I am **not** the narrator. This story is written from the first person perspective: it is not a self-insert. I joke about it, but let's face it: if those little guys showed up at my house, I would make them tea and then cuddle them to death.

I hope that sets your heart at ease about my poor liver.

* * *


	31. Part 31: In Which There is a Trip

_ Snow White does not belong to me... it belongs to the Brothers Grimm, and the people they originally stole it from. I am not responsible for the Macarena. Thank God. And I didn't invent Pictionary, or authorize any pictures that Gojyo may have drawn._

_In other words, I don't own it, and it's not my fault._

**Part 31: In Which There is a Trip**

Gaze out the front window at the ominously sunny day. Pink clouds float threateningly against the suspiciously blue sky. A bird is singing.

Kougaiji is watching it. I wonder if he wants to play with it, throw sparkles at it or eat it.

I need a drink.

I'm leaving early, dammit. It's only polite to be early for appointments, right? And maybe I'll surprise that receptionist with my responsible behavior, show her I'm not a total drunk. Or something.

...I need a drink.

* * *

All the chibis are back at the kitchen table amusing themselves, but it feels as though I'm under surveillance. I'm sure they've got a betting pool going for when I'll drink. I wonder who has money on me breaking down and getting Hakkai to drive me there? 

Judging by Goku's crash helmet, the odds must be pretty good.

* * *

"Anyway..." Interrupt their machinations momentarily. "I have to go downtown to get some pills." They know this. I know this. We have established common ground. Now, to drop the bomb: "You should stay here." 

A surprising lack of explosion: By actually speaking to them, and not forcing them to eavesdrop, I have lost their attention completely. A few heads nod in cursory acknowledgement of my existence, but no one speaks to me. Instead, the conversation returns to Mr. Collar's bathroom habits.

Kougaiji is whistling at the bird. The bird whistles back. It's eerily Snow White-esque, except for the dwarves at the table: Cutesy, Surly, Gropey and Hungry.

* * *

Acquire jacket. Hunt out car keys. This is considerably easier to do when sober, but not nearly as much fun. 

Stand in the doorway, and check the Chibis one last time.

Four heads are huddled over a cut-throat game of... Pictionary? And Kougaiji is teaching the bird the Macarena.

* * *

They'll be fine here. 

If they burn the place down, I won't have to do laundry. And Hakkai'll take care of the cat, I'm sure.

This is way too easy.

Which is just the way I like my life.

* * *

"Bye, then." Wave. Leave.

* * *

Close door, lock it. Check pockets for necessary pocket cargo. Should learn to do that before locking the door. Anyway, I have what I need. 

Car.

* * *

Car is five heads fuller than an empty car should be. Hakkai has the map unfolded, and markers out. Goku has abandoned his crash-helmet (and likely some cash) for a snorkel, bucket and spade. 

"Where do you think you're going?" I inquire, hopelessly.

"With you." they chorus.

"Of course." they add.

"Ha!" Sanzo snorts from behind the paper.

"It's best not to read in the car, Sanzo." Hakkai rustles the map.

"She hasn't got her crap in gear yet. I'll stop when we actually move."

"But..." Try to venture a word of objection, as the required full-sized driver, only to be ignored completely.

"Goku ate my snack!"

"Quiet!" Sanzo's wapping fan has remarkable reach, stretching all the way to the back seat. I can only hope that it will be used as a deterrent while I drive, or I won't need pills, as I and all my vehicular parasites will be dead.

* * *

Just give up. That's always my favorite option. 

Get in.

* * *

Kougaiji is napping in the back window. 

"You know," Muse aloud while starting the car. "Maybe this is a good thing. I mean, if you're going to go to the shrink, why not take your hallucinations along?"

Besides, they obviously need therapy more than I do.

* * *

Dead Silence.

* * *

Broken by Hakkai: 

"Are you sure you should be driving when you're hallucina-"

"Oh, be quiet." Bump over the curve and out of the driveway. "And pass me those cookies."

* * *

I've given up on hiding them. 

After all, if they're hallucinations, no one else should be able to see them. And if they're not...

Oh, I hope they are.

Anyway, this seems like the right place to bring them: crisp white walls, plenty of fake plants, a somewhat surly receptionist...

Her drugs must have worn off. Poor thing.

* * *

The chibis have successfully negotiated the double doors to get in, at one point using Goku as a doorstop. They are cunningly disguised as potted plants. And a bucket. What a bucket would be doing in the waiting room of Dr. A. Fraid, psychiatric specialist, I don't know. 

The receptionist doesn't seem to notice. She has other things on her mind:

"No, I don't know where you put it! You'd better find it, or the government men will... They have special accountants, you know. With guns!" Wait politely off to one side, picturing bookish, brown-jacket wearers packin' heat. "... hold on, there's someone here. Oh, it's your drunk. You know, the one who... yeah, she says she's seeing things now."

* * *

The entirety of this gesture-filled conversation is held into a near-invisible headpiece. Any reasonable person observing would think _she_ was the crazy one. 

"Hmph. She looks like the crazy one." Mumbles a fern, so dry it's yellow, as it paws through the magazines.

"Hey, if she's crazy do we need these disguises? My feet itch." Whines the bucket.

"Hush now... we don't know _how_ crazy she is. After all, plenty of people talk to themselves... a bit..." the 14-inch tropical hushes them both.

I suppose I don't really need to check in. I think she knows I'm here.

* * *

Take a seat. 

The motion seems to catch the eye of the receptionist, who drags her mind away from her government gun-men related troubles to patronize me.

"Oh, look! You've brought your doll with you. He's so... cuddly-looking. What's he made of?" She makes me feel kind of small... rather like Kougaiji, who is clinging to my arm wuvingly, having decided that the perfect disguise is no disguise at all.

I look at Kougaiji, who blinks up at me.

"Teeth. Mainly." I note. "Though that's just an observation."

"Isn't that _fascinating_."

* * *

It's the tone of voice. Something about that tone of voice causes me to decide against warning her about the delightful pot of red tea roses that are trying to look up her skirt. 

"I'll have a room ready for you right away. You've hit us on a slow day, lucky you." So very lucky. Nice to know that the crazy population decided to give me a break today. And the Government Elite Accountant Squad.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Dark Avalon made a **Team Sparkle** hat _and_ shirt. I think that's very, very cool, and she should post a picture of them somewhere so I can link to it. I'm also supposed to have some new Chibi fan art soon... I'll post the link from my profile as soon as it's in. Fan art and **Team Sparkle** stuff make me giggle uncontrollably. 

I wuv you all.

Next time: Therapeutic!


	32. Part 32: In Which There is a Breakdown

**Part 32:In Which There is a Breakdown**

The blond fern is sitting on a chair, a three-year-old copy of "Cat Fancy" balanced against its pot. The receptionist's piercing gaze passes over this odd plant behavior, and right bores into me.

"You haven't brought alcohol in with you, have you?" she demands.

Pat pockets: Wallet, keys, loose change... lint...

"Uh, no. But there's a store down the street if you're really desperate."

She laughs an icky laugh and walks off down the hall, no doubt in search of a tidy place to store a messy drunk.

Everyone thinks I'm so... comical, lately. Ha ha.

* * *

"Well!" The 14-inch tropical is obviously scandalized. It fiddles with its monocle and neatens the pamphlets. "She wasn't very hospitable. How are you supposed to get help for your hallucinations, when..." 

"It comes from working with head-cases all the time." The blond fern interrupts. "_I_ understand. Perfectly."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The tea roses have taken offense at this statement, and are marching across the chairs purposefully when the receptionist returns.

"I have a room for you." She ushers me away quickly. "Just through here..."

The last thing I hear before the door closes is a familiar voice turning up the charm:

"So... do you have a room for _me_, sweet cheeks?"

* * *

What am I thinking? I just left her alone with them! 

...fine. They can get cute with _her_, for a change. Who knows? It might cheer her up.

I feel oddly merciless today, as if all the mercy has drained from my body like the blood has drained from Kougaiji's favorite arm. I wonder why?

Maybe it's because I didn't bring any alcohol in with me.

* * *

Before my conscience has a chance to catch up with me, Dr. Albrect Fraid enters and starts asking difficult questions, like: "How are you?" and "Is your previous insurance still valid?" 

It's all very cathartic.

* * *

"I see..." says Dr. Fraid, upon hearing a portion of my story. "Zee little people, zhey arrived a few days ago?" 

I can't help thinking he'd make a good door-to-door Hug Doctor.

My conscience hits me like a brick wrapped in Judgment.

Oh bugger.

* * *

"Yes, and I left a few of them out with your..." 

"Unt zen you made zis doll?" He seems fascinated with Kougaiji. What is it with people staring at him? Anyone would think he was... irresistibly cute, or something.

Kougaiji, on the other hand, is trying to sink back inside Mr. Jacket, and keeps making little growling noises that I hope are easily mistaken for the air-conditioning or my intestinal functions.

The Little Prince seems to have an intense fear of doctors. Can't think why, for the life of me.

"No, I didn't make... I mean, _he_ thinks I..."

"Unt who is he supposed to be, zis cute little fellah?"

Kougaiji's eyes go the size of my fists as Dr. Fraid's fingers come towards him.

* * *

It all happens so fast. If I had to write a police report, I don't think I'd be able to do it. 

First comes the finger-biting. Then the bleeding, and screaming, "Eet's aliiiiiiiive!" Then the Gremlin-leap out of my jacket, and the subsequent discovery that Kougaiji is surprisingly strong for his size.

Any size, really.

Oh, and then the realization that the ruckus outside the office is even louder than the fracas inside.

* * *

Hakkai's gentle, but insistent, knocking on the door gives my mind just one more opportunity not to come to terms with Kougaiji beating the stuffing out of a medical practitioner. 

Open the door.

Hakkai has discarded his photosynthetic camouflage and is now wearing a somewhat nervous expression instead.

"Um... I'm terribly sorry, but... you see, Gojyo was... and then Sanzo shot the... I'm so sorry, but could you..." Sounds like he couldn't fill out the appropriate forms either, should an officer present them to him.

* * *

Well, at least I'm fairly sure they're real, now. 

And they seem to need me.

So that's okay.

Yeah...

* * *

"I'll go see what I can do. Could you do something about Kougaiji?" Trading lunatics is fair. 

Hakkai looks relieved, despite the obviously monumental task ahead of him: Dr. Fraid is on the floor in the fetal position, and Kougaiji is jumping up and down on him.

Proceeding down the hall, Hakkai's most coaxing voice echoes after me: "I have craaaaaaayons..."

I try very, very hard _not_ to hear Kougaiji's squeaky little voice holler:

"An' stay away fwom my _sister_!"

* * *

It's all rather disturbing. I will probably need a stiff drink to help me get over the shock.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

As has been mentioned, I don't own the Gremlins, and I don't even own a _copy_ of "Cat Fancy". 

I apologize for the delay in posting. It was unavoidable: Kingdom Hearts II came out, and I felt the need to get my ass kicked by Sephiroth all over again.

He did not fail to disappoint.


	33. Part 33: In Which There is Treatment

**Part 33: In Which There is Treatment**

In comparison, I suppose I'm somewhat used to chibi behavior by now - unlike the receptionist. She's huddled down behind her desk looking like someone having their first Chibi Encounter: that is to say, a little stressed.

"I warned you they were made of teeth," I mumble and hunker down beside her.

* * *

Survey the carnage: Goku must have savaged the snack machine and the candy bowl, resulting in the candy-maddened level of Seiten Taisei Sugar Goku. Sanzo is administering the appropriate level of beating for this kind of behavior.

Gojyo is taking advantage of the confusion to move in on the receptionist. He's down beside her on the floor, one arm around her, or at least as much of her as his little arm can handle.

"Just take it easy, doll. You know, a hug would probably make you feel a lot better..."

"They're not real. They're not real. They're not..." Head in her hands, rocking back and forth like that, a hug probably wouldn't quite do the trick.

* * *

Sigh.

* * *

"I tried that," In my own way, though not the rocking part, admittedly. "It doesn't work. They just get more and more in-your-face until you can't ignore them anymore."

"You!" Her wild eyes turn on me and lock, desperate for something believable to focus on. "You did this!"

Look around at the candy-coated, fan-smacking mess.

"I'm not that creative." Or energetic.

"But! But they're _your_..."

"Hey!" Gojyo pipes up, climbing on to her knees. "I may have come with her, but I don't have to go home with her, if you know what I mean?"

* * *

Gojyo's leer meets her horrified stare, and-

Sanzo's fan hits Goku with remarkable precision and force, sending him flying through the air. He ricochets off a pile of papers, directly into Gojyo. As the papers flutter down around us, the two concussed chibis stagger around, birds and stars (and hearts and flowers for some unknown reason) circling their heads. They finally collapse sideways, conveniently onto my lap.

The receptionist whimpers, and slumps against my shoulder, out cold.

* * *

Sanzo stands atop the desk, fan in hand and a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

"What are you looking so proud for?" Initiate Operation: Take Sanzo Down a Notch. "I'd be way more impressed if you'd knocked them out _before_ they tore the place apart. Wait... are those cigarette butts? Have you been _smoking_ in here?"

Operation: Buenas Notches fails, as Sanzo ignores my question entirely, instead parrying with an accusation of his own. "Screw that. The screaming _started_ down your end. What the hell were you doing in there? Having a parade?"

* * *

As if he had been waiting for the cue, Hakkai appears, backing slowly down the hall while rattling a box of crayons.

Without Sanzo's mastery of question-avoiding skills, there's no choice but a straight answer: "Kougaiji doesn't like doctors, it seems."

"Why? Did you tell him he was getting a shot?"

* * *

Ironically, that does it. Kougaiji zooms down the hallway, past the reception, and out the door, leaving a con-trail of dust and paper behind him. Note the day and time for posterity: this may be Sanzo's first official miracle.

"Ah ha ha ha! Well done, Sanzo." Hakkai returns the crayons to the reception toy box, which is now empty of everything but those crayons. Its former contents are strewn about the room, no doubt having been used for various nefarious chibi purposes.

Sanzo snorts, in expression of his satisfaction with a job well done. His sinuses must be very pleased.

* * *

I can still hear Dr. Fraid whimpering from here. Now probably would not be a good time to ask for a prescription renewal. On the plus-side, now the government gun-men are the least of his worries.

And I've been fine so far without those pills. The rest of the planet might not be too happy about it, but I've been okay. Maybe it's all about damage control at this point, anyway.

* * *

Gently shift the receptionist onto a flotilla of papers. Gather up the unconscious lap dwellers.

"Come on. Let's go."

Hakkai stops trying to clean up, and his serious eyes gaze up at me in genuine concern. "But don't you need to see a doctor? What about your hallucinations?"

"It's okay, Hakkai." Hold the door open for people with little legs to pass. "As it turns out, you're probably real."

"Hmph." Sanzo marches imperiously past. "_I_ could have told you that."

Thanks again, Dr. McSanzo. Your professional opinion is always appreciated.

Now, where was that liquor store?

* * *

It was right where I left it.

"I think you still have some rum in the fridge..." Hakkai mentions helpfully as I park. Kougaiji is hiding under the front seat, and he squeaks, 'No shot!' when anyone attempts to extract him. This gives me a rare opportunity to go out in public with the use of both arms. I intend to use it the best way I know how.

"You can never have too much rum." My most basic creed: my mission statement, if you will.

* * *

Enter the store to the ding-a-ling of doorbells.

God, I hate doorbells.

Doesn't matter what store you go into, they always keep the rum near the back. It's like they want you to re-think your options, as if the store is asking you, 'Do you really want rum? Would you perhaps prefer one of these less-efficient drunkinating beverages?'

No way, I say. Why complicate a simple process?

* * *

It's been a long day already, and it's still morning: Put a pair of bottles in a convenient basket. Head for the till.

Get the attention of the kid behind the counter, which is harder than one may expect. He would obviously like to quit his dead-end job, to devote more of his time to his true passion of TV-watching.

Unload basket.

* * *

Basket has mysteriously sprouted four six-packs of beer during my journey from the back wall to the till. Beer is a very inefficient drunkimifier: you have to pee far too often to build up the necessary alcohol levels. This seems wasteful, in my opinion.

Still, I'm not sure why, but I'm feeling oddly - generous?

After all, I'm no less sane than a guy with a medical degree, or his highly-trained office staff. Maybe a little saner; at least I didn't curl up in a ball and/or pass out when I met my first chibi.

But I don't think I'll put that on my resumé.

* * *

"How much are these?" Pass one of the six-packs to the kid, who scans it.

"Let's see..." He points at the screen. "Looks like they're on sale."

"Cheap booze!" My ankle rejoices audibly. Try to kick the flashes of red and yellow hair that bob just out of view. Succeed only in kicking myself.

"Uh... yes. They're very cheap." The Future Professional TV-Watcher is now looking at me more closely, as if to ask, 'Are you one of our regular drunks?' No, young sir, I am an entirely different drunk.

"Then I'll take two. You can put the rest back." My generosity is deflating along with my perceived sanity.

"But!" Gasps my ankle. The click of a cap-gun cocking is faintly heard.

"But what?" Asks the clerk.

"...but on second thought, forget it. I don't need them." Generosity exhausted by the threat of silly violence.

"Yaaargh! No!" My ankle cries out in grief.

"No?" The poor kid is now obviously confused, and a little flustered. Though, being so close to a psychiatrists office, you'd think he'd have more experience with this.

"No, I think two will just hit the spot!" Pipes my ankle in a ridiculous falsetto voice. "Thank you for your help, you man. What lovely eyes you - yrrk!"

Finally, a kick that connects.

Pay. Leave. Quickly.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

If I had a band, I would name it The Various Nefarious.

ScarlettHuntress has offered to build (and paint) a temple for me. I'm afraid the chibis would turn it into a petting zoo.

Next Time: Travelogue!


	34. Part 34: In Which There is Excitement

**Part 34: In Which There is Excitement**

_Garfield belongs to Jim Davis, and I don't have his permission. I am, however, fascinated by how a cat can stick to a window._

Driving.

I _have_ to use my rear-view mirror. If I don't, I won't know when the cars behind me are going to pass and give me the finger.

That's important.

But they're so... distracting, back there. It's like their whole purpose in existing is to get my attention(#).

They're absolutely shameless.

* * *

Goku is impersonating a window sucker-plushie, though how he's managed to adhere himself to the window, I have no idea. Maybe he had a jam sandwich. The point is, any small children driven past are going to need very expensive therapy at some point in their later lives. 

I can hear them now: "Mommy, look! That Garfield is going to eat us all!"

Gojyo has settled in for the trip, and has his Travelling Panties on his head. Or rather, my travelling panties. Though if we're pulled over, I will fiercely deny that.

* * *

But all of this is unimportant, next to the startling green color that Hakkai is turning. Even though he's generally a little green around the edges, I'm sure his skin is usually an adorable shade of pink, and not so... 

"Hey, Hakkai? Are you going to be sick?" My mental Chibi Expression Translator finally catches on. On a busy road. With nowhere to pull over, let alone bushes to hide a nauseated chibi under.

"Ah ha ha - hrk!"

"Get him a bag! Dammit! Open the windows, NOW!"

* * *

Hakkai's gasping face floats in and out of my rear-view mirror as he is transported to fresh air. 

"I told you not to read!" Gojyo's triumphant justification is overshadowed by his desire not to be puked on. "Stick your head out the window!"

"Don't!" I holler. Two large trucks pass me, one on each side. They are playing the truck version of the familiar old game, Schoolyard Bully.

Visions of a decapitated chibi turn me a little green as well.

* * *

"Terribly sorry!" An apology proves that Hakkai's head remains in one piece. Who else apologizes? "It's just what I found at the doctor's office. It's so interesting and - hrk!" 

"Out the window!" Gojyo tries to aim him.

"Not out the window, damn you!" No headless chibis, thank you. None!

* * *

Desperate times call for desperate measures: Wake Sanzo, previously napping on the front seat. 

"Trade with Hakkai!" It comes out as a shout. When will those trucks stop playing with me? It's starting to feel like Dodgeball. I hated Dodgeball.

"What? Hell no!" Sanzo is... his normal self.

"Trade! Now!" Please, go away, Mr. Truck. I don't want to be your extremely close friend.

"Who do you think you are, you big..."

"Front-page news, tomorrow's Chibi Times: 'Dead Sanzo Found in Puddle of Puke!' Trade! Now!"

"..." Sanzo seems astounded by my bout of prognostication.

* * *

"'Shocking Pictures of Puke-Covered Monk!'" Gojyo chimes in from the back seat. "Man, I'd pay a whole _buck_ for that!" 

Gojyo's just being helpful. Or he's just trying to get a shot in on Sanzo, which is understandable. It doesn't seem necessary to point out that he would be dead in the car wreck behind said vomitous monk, should those pictures ever print.

The trucks cut me off again.

For a fraction of a second, I'm glad I'm sober. But I don't want to _die_ sober.

* * *

"So sorry... mrrf!" Hakkai's eyes have been replaced with swirls that bear no resemblance to eyes whatsoever. That's probably not helping his motion sickness. He staggers towards the front seat, emergency-bag in hand, small birds circling his head in tight formation. 

Sanzo vacates the front seat, without a word, and with remarkable speed.

No one wants to be front-page puke news.

* * *

"You okay?" I can't look at Hakkai to check. We'll die if I look. I _really_ don't want to die sober... 

"Much... better... Oh my! That was close, wasn't it?"

"What's up?" Gojyo, if you're clinging to the back of my headrest, you are inadvertently inviting your own demise.

* * *

Somehow, when everything around you is moving terribly fast, something slow will catch your eye. 

The Rear-View Mirror: A bird twitters up and away from the recovering Hakkai, to land on the finger of Kougaiji in the back window. He smiles at it peacefully.

Will he eat it?

* * *

Then there's nothing but engine fumes and roaring pipes and jerks in metal bodies weighing several tonnes. 

"Just pass, damn you!" Shout as loud as possible, though there's no way the asshole beside me can hear over the sound of his own roaring ego. "Pass or die! Pass or get the hell off the road! Just go away, you... MONSTER!"

"I'll save you, Mummy!"

* * *

I am going to hell. 

From now on, I refuse to believe in a fiery hell, because I don't want to go there, and Kougaiji just set fire to that man's truck.

I... think I was more surprised than he was.

That is, I don't think he had much time to _be_ surprised, what with all that pulling over to the emergency lane, jumping out and running for cover.

* * *

I can't see the flames from his engine block in my rear-view mirror, anymore. 

Just a little bird twittering away in my back window, and the chibis giving each other congratulatory High Fives over Kougaiji's excellent fireball aim.

Monster slaying. Bloody hell.

* * *

I... _really_ need that drink. 

----

And, after his successful monster-slaying defense of Mummy, Kougaiji is a little thirsty as well. He takes a tiny sip of Mummy's Special Drink. Not too much: it's Special.

Mummy, on the other hand, has a large sip of her own 'special drink' as soon as they're home. And passes out. Obviously it's nap-time.

Chibis love naps.

* * *

Footnote (#) - and not, say, to siphon cheap hits to some fanfiction webpage.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Dun dun duuuuuuun! 

**This calls for some celebration**: Chapter 33 was a bit of a monument for me... this story has now broken 300 reviews, and 10,000 hits. In order to celebrate, I made a **Team Sparkle** hat, which I'll post a shot of in a bit, and I also made you a present.

Head over to my profile. **Your Present** is right at the top.

Enjoy!


	35. Part 35: In Which a Plot Appears!

  
**Part 35: In Which a Plot Surprisingly Appears**

Hakkai's right about afternoon naps. Or midday naps. General periods of unconsciousness: it's all good.

Strange, to wake up gently. No pounding headache, no alarm ringing, no smell of smoke, or even shouting. If someone brought me coffee in bed now, this would be the third best day of my life.

* * *

Wait patiently. 

Looks like I'll have to get my own coffee. Oh well.

* * *

Where are those little buggers, anyway? Usually they're in my face the moment I wake up. Quite the delay in action, here. 

Maybe they've gone.

* * *

I'm sure they would have said goodbye first. Kougaiji would, anyway. Probably with tears, and a lovely card. Hakkai, too. It's the polite thing to do. 

They can't have gone.

* * *

And even if they have, that would be fine. I doubt that any real trouble will come from this morning's brush with mental health, but still... I don't want to get caught harboring pint-sized fugitives. 

They're a pain in the ass. I hope they're gone.

Either way, I hope someone made coffee.

* * *

Voices from the kitchen. Not gone, then. 

Funny, isn't it, how sometimes you don't realize how tense you are until you suddenly relax?

So, what's in the kitchen that's more important than annoying me?

* * *

"If we must join forces to escape this bizarre prison, then so be it: I will work alongside you on this occasion. But make no mistake, Sanzo Party, I will never give up my obligation to take that Sutra!" 

Who the hell is that?

* * *

"Well, who says we _want_ to work with you?" Gojyo is visible even from the hall, sitting in the fruit bowl, picking his nose. He flicks it toward the speech-giver. "You're no fun, anyway." 

"Fun? Fun. You truly have no sense of the magnitude of the issues involved, do you? For all of us, the whole world is waiting to see which group will bring about the future. Yet, all you can think about is -"

* * *

Poke head around corner. 

"Who the hell is that?" Chibis on the counter may know. They're better armed than usual, which is to say that Gojyo has acquired a complicated scythe-thingy that appears to be Nerf in nature. He swings the orange foam crescent idly back and forth, and stops picking his nose long enough to point at the fridge.

* * *

The fridge isn't speaking. Fridges don't talk. 

"Ye gods!" cries the fridge. "What _is_ that?"

On the other hand, I suppose a human being may seem to be a bit of an oddity to a talking fridge. I've never thought of it from the fridge's perspective before.

"Hello, Mr. Fridge... or Refrigerator, whichever you prefer..." Should we shake handles?

"Up, you silly old sot." Sanzo points above the fridge.

Which makes more sense than a talking fridge. But then, who am I to say?

* * *

Stand on toes. Look on top of fridge. 

Lock eyes with -

* * *

Kougaiji.

* * *

"Oh." I eloquently observe. "Hello, little guy." 

Just Kougaiji. No problem here.

"What manner of creature... it's not a shikigami, but so _enormous_!" He pokes my nose with a rather pointy finger.

* * *

"Ouch." Rub my poked nose: Something's not right here. "What are you doing on top of the fridge, anyway? The cookies aren't up there." 

"It speaks intelligibly. Hm... Perhaps this is an inhabitant of this strange land."

"Uh... and why are you talking to yourself?"

"He always does that," Hakkai answers for the orating Prince. "especially when there's Plot going on."

* * *

"Listen, oh Great Beast!" Kougaiji intones from Fridgetop. "I am Kougaiji, son of Gyumaoh. It is vital that I return to my kingdom. Assist me, and you will be rewarded. Hinder me, and you will pay." 

A little ball of fire forms in his hand.

* * *

Oh God, I hope the man in that truck didn't get my plate number!

* * *

"Gah! Wait!" Grab a pot lid from the drying rack, and hold it up as a shield. "What's going on? Sanzo, what did you clowns do to him?" 

Sanzo glances up at me from his seat on the kitchen table, where he has been reading, smoking, and presumably watching the fun.

"We de-squeaked him. Obviously."

"Well, re-squeak him, dammit! He's a fire hazard!"

"Ah ha ha ha..." Hakkai's Laugh of Impending Doom makes my heart sink.

"We're not quite sure how..."

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

The remarkable **Rexha **has made **Fan Art! ** It is incredibly adorable, involves apples, and is linked from my profile. Don't forget to review before you go look... you know I rely on you... I am a reviewaholic... 

And by the way... Blahsblah2001: You were right. She doesn't.

Next Time: More Plot! Amazing, isn't it?


	36. Part 36: In Which There is Drama

**Part 36: In Which There is Drama**

"Creature!" Kougaiji's authoritative little voice resounds from on high...ish. It makes my hair stand on end. "Have you chosen to side with Sanzo and his band of thugs?"

"Yarg!" I elocute with precision my dismay and confusion.

"Yay! She's on our team!" Goku is looking forward to the impending catastrophe. Never a good sign.

* * *

"No, no, no!" Gojyo shushes him. "You know how it goes - the side with the least people always wins. You should be on his team, and she can be, too... and maybe we should tie up Sanzo and stuff him in the stove..."

"I'm not on a team!" I feel like a bystander at a rugby game who's accidentally wandered on field and caught the ball. "Dammit, why do we need teams? What the hell _happened_? Hakkai!"

Grab Hakkai. Take cover behind counter.

* * *

Hakkai takes a little black notebook out of his pocket. The word "Diary" is written on the front, and it is secured by a heart-shaped lock.

Hakkai fiddles with the key.

"Before he burns the place down, please." Motivate him to haste. "_My_ place. Where I keep all my _stuff_."

"Right, yes. Once second. Ah!" He finally gets the little book open and puts on his glasses.

* * *

"Whatever plan you are devising will not succeed! My will is strong, and I will not fail." Kougaiji hollers.

It's... just not right. Not... cute.

"There's some cookies on the counter. Help yourself, while I do a quick re-cap." Hakkai counters.

"Ha! Such an old trick. I'll stay right where I am, thank you." The voice retreats a little.

* * *

Refuses cookies?

"...the hell?" I mumble.

"Hm. And they're fresh, you know. Chocolate." Hakkai ponders the situation.

* * *

Stare.

* * *

"Oh. Right." Hakkai returns to the planet of Not Cookies. "Yes. It says right here: In chapter Eighteen... um, I mean, on the eighteenth, a-hem, ha ha... Sanzo gave Kougaiji a bottle with 'Drink Me' written on it in very curly, plot-suggestive letters."

"Why?"

Hakkai fidgets self-consciously: "Because he's a big meany?"

"Damn straight." Sanzo mutters over his newspaper. His coffee cup has an excessively fluffy kitten on it.

* * *

Sigh.

* * *

"Point taken. So, the drink did this?"

"One can only assume. If I were wearing the little lab coat, I might say that it appears to have de-cutified his personality, while leaving him adorable in appearance."

* * *

Risk a furtive glance over the counter. Fluffy hair: Check. Big Eyes: Check. The fireball even has little glittery bits in it.

Crap! He spotted me!

"You there! Stand and make your first move. My mission is of utmost importance. I cannot afford to waste any more time!"

...but he really has lost his cute. Poor little guy.

* * *

"Okay, okay... just a sec." I issue an official reply. Stand slowly, muttering at Hakkai: "How do I fix it?"

"Ah ha ha ha..." Oh, no. The Laugh. I'm Doomed. "I wish I knew. I'm afraid all my little test tubes are with the lab coat, so I can't even guess."

Don't even think about the logic of that one.

I guess I'm on my own, then.

Me vs. Kougaiji, Round One!

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Don't worry. Just... don't worry. He'll be okay.

Trust me on this.

At least, until Sanzo develops acute hugosis. Then, you know, all bets are off.


	37. Part 37: In Which There is Melodrama

**Part 37: In Which There is Melodrama**

Step out from behind the counter.

Step back, out of the way. The fireball scorches my wallpaper, and fills the room with the stink of burning glue.

"Wait just a damn minute!" Shriek the words calmly, inspecting the scorch mark. I like that wallpaper. And this is my house! And that could have been my _head_!

* * *

"I bear you no ill will, Great Beast..." 

"I think I preferred 'Mummy'." Edge towards the fridge, muttering under my breath. "Though not by much."

"...but I cannot afford another delay. There are people relying on-"

"Yes, yes, that's nice. Cookie?"

Present Hakkai's neatly-arranged plate.

* * *

The look he gives me is not cute. 

Not... right.

That little face, those huge eyes: he should be the cutest of the cute. But now...

"Your tokens are meaningless. Loyalty requires decisive action." Coldly, dismissively, he knocks that plate out of my hand.

* * *

Screw this.

* * *

Grab Chibi. 

Ignore scalded fingers and nasty burned-hair smell.

"You - rrrgh! Let go!"

Hug.

* * *

"Help! For the love of-" 

Hug more.

You were the cutest damn thing I ever saw. Why can't you just be cute? Even if it's a little out-of-character, even if it freaks me out when you call me Mummy...

Cute really suits you.

"Mrrf!"

I... miss you already.

Hug viciously.

* * *

"Mrrf... wuv... you..." 

Barely heard that, but...

Relax grip, just a little.

The little body is limp.

* * *

Panic. 

Lay chibi on table, now surrounded by enormous, staring eyes.

He doesn't move.

"Hey..."

Poke him with a finger.

Nothing.

* * *

Hakkai lifts the tiny wrist to take a pulse. 

Oh my God...

Hakkai drops the wrist. He doesn't look at me.

I think I'm going to-

Hakkai fumbles in his pocket, and pulls out a cookie.

Waves the cookie under Kougaiji's nose.

* * *

Goku helps Hakkai put bandages on his bitten fingers, and Kougaiji rolls over: munching the cookie and mumbling in his sleep. 

"Well, I think it's safe to say he'll be fine." Hakkai says, giving the sleeping chibi a vengeful little kick. Kougaiji's snoring doesn't even falter. "Though I'll get out the little stethoscope later to check."

"But..." Gojyo stares at me, white faced and shaking. "She nearly cuddled him to _death_!"

"Yes... I suppose we can say now that Aggressive Hug Therapy reverses the affects of The Drink. Speaking of which..." Hakkai rifles Kougaiji's pockets. The Little Prince giggles ticklishly in his sleep. "Ah. Here it is."

* * *

The bottle does indeed have curly letters. 

"Where on earth did you find that?" I certainly don't remember buying it.

"Under the sink."

"You _drank_ something that was under the sink? That's crazy!"

"See? That's what _I_ said!" Goku chimes in triumphantly, though his triumph is dampened by the effort involved in stopping Gojyo from nicking whatever else may be in Sleeping Cutie's pockets.

* * *

"That's why I gave it to Kougaiji." Sanzo says, taking the bottle from Hakkai. 

"Really?" The tone of my voice must have changed: the chibis have started backing away, even Kougaiji is surreptitiously rolling in the other direction. But not Sanzo... no, he's still staring at that damn bottle...

"Hell yes." He continues. "Think I'd test it on myself? I'm not stupid."

"Testing."

"Better than testing it on animals. And if he kicks the bucket, it's one less pain in _my_ a-"

* * *

By the time Sanzo is returned to the table, I have the bottle, and all of his cigarettes... as well as what feels like a sprained wrist, and many, many little bite marks. 

"You're DEAD!" He screams.

"You're LUCKY!" I retort in righteous rage. "If Goku weren't chewing on my ankle, you'd be _flushed_ by now! You can let go now, damn it, Goku!" Shake free of the Vicious Chomping.

"Give it back!" Sanzo's fury is undampened. He leaps for the bottle.

* * *

There's something about Sanzo... jumping up and down, trying to get the bottle in my hand. His little sandals make a pitter-patter sound on the table, his blonde hair fluffs out, and his face goes cherry red. 

It's cute. Really cute.

"That's so cute." Hold the bottle just out of reach.

* * *

He stops on a dime. He glares at me. He turns and walks away. 

He trips over Kougaiji, who mumbles "More cookies, pwease!" and tries to use Sanzo's robes as a blanket.

Sanzo gets up, and brushes himself off.

He glares up at me, once again.

I smile. Still cute.

* * *

And he _knows_ it.

* * *

He sighs profoundly. 

"Fine. I can always get more cigarettes. We'll call it even... for now."

It must be hard to sound ominous when your feet go pitter-patter when you walk.

Hee hee hee!

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Okay, who guessed that the cure would be hugs? Think Chibi, people, think Chibi! 

But the Plot is about to submerge again. Wave goodbye, you may see it again one day.

And I'm leaving my current country for a month, so summer will be slow for this fic, but don't give up on me! I'll be back, and when I am, there will be cuteness!

Next Time: Hostages!


	38. Part 38: In Which Vengeance is Swift

**Part 38: In Which Vengeance is Swift**

Give the bottle to Hakkai, once Sanzo has pitter-pattered safely out of sight.

"You hide it. I'm not good at that kind of thing."

"Right. Leave it to me."

* * *

Take Kougaiji into the front room. Set snoring chibi on his favorite pillow. Adjust curtain to catch the last of the sunbeams. 

Well, he's certainly cute again.

Fluff pillow.

Fluff chibi hair.

Chibi giggles in between snores.

Smile.

* * *

I guess I should at least _try_ to get some more work done. Mr. Collar just might try for two in a row. 

Though I doubt that even he is that naive.

Sanzo is already occupying the computer chair.

* * *

He is sitting on all current and outdated, regional and local phone books. Even then, he still has to stand to type: a laborious, two-mittened task. 

"Answering fan-mail?" Whatever his task, I doubt his timing is coincidental.

"None of your business." His eyes don't even leave the screen.

"Okay. Except, that's _my_ computer, and I need it to work."

"Like hell you do. Why don't you go play with your rum? I'm sure it misses you."

Insult _me_ all you like, you Dime-Size Dictator, but don't you dare disparage the water of life!

* * *

"Get off." Simulate a sterner tone. "Work first; kitten obsessions later." 

"Possession is nine-tenths."

"I'll erase the back-up drive. All your pictures, gone."

He holds up a fake-fur covered CD case. It has two plush, pointed ears, and a furry tail attached to the zipper. He shakes it, jingling its collar bell.

"I back up regularly, unlike some idiots I know. Now – scat, or…"

* * *

He draws my attention to the screen. The mouse pointer hovers over an "Okay" button. The dialogue box reads: "Warning: Reinstalling will remove all FILES and PREFERENCES from this drive." 

That's _not_ "Okay"!

"…Wallace…"

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Sanzo's vengeful smile makes me cringe.

* * *

Flee. 

How could he? Taking my computer hostage is low, even for someone that short.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

This is a last minute flying post before I… uh… fly. No updates for a month after this. Have a nice summer! 

Next Time: Zilla!


	39. Part 39: In Which There is a Monster

**Part 39: In Which There is a Monster**

At unfortunately sober times likes this, I generally like to drink. But right now, the fridge holds disturbing memories along with my rum.

So, at unfortunately _prolonged_ sober times, like this, I generally turn to my cat.

In the Basement.

* * *

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty..." Doesn't everyone say that when they're looking for their cat? 

The nakedly dangling light-bulb is already on. Did I forget to turn it off last time? The stairs are so creaky.

She had better be down here.

* * *

Though I'll feel a little guilty if she is. 

Unless the first thing she does is scratch me.

Which she does.

Of course.

* * *

"You're such a mean kitty." Persist in scritching of ears until cat gets bored with bloodletting. Purring may be heard, but that is debatable. 

Sigh.

Flop onto discarded furniture, and observe the Historic Laundry Heap.

* * *

It moves.

* * *

Do not scream. 

Try not to scream, anyway. Not loudly.

"Ah!" Said in a regular speaking voice. This is the scream of someone who doesn't want to be heard by the monster, but would like to be heard by, say, a passing policeman or superhero.

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

Oh, no! Not only have the great heaps of filthy clothing spawned a new form of life, they've eaten Hakkai and absorbed his vocal cords! The horror! the horror!

* * *

Try to pick up cat in preparation for a panicked dash to the stairs and safety. 

The cat does not approve of my tactics.

"Owtch." Again screamed quietly, this time while sucking on fingers.

"I'll get you a bandaid." Laundryzilla offers helpfully.

"No thanks. Running away, you see."

"Um... would you mind at least taking the bandaid with you? Bloodstains are rather hard to get out, you see."

Concede to the demands of Laundryzilla.

Who turns out to be Hakkai, in a laundry suit.

* * *

"What on earth are you doing?" 

Hakkai rubs the back of his head self-consciously. "Laundry. Since I was doing ours, I thought I would do yours as well. But there's... quite a bit..."

The heaps are the size of Big people, let alone Little ones. Or at least, they _were_. They appear to have been shrinking, against all laundry sense.

"Wow. Thanks. But you don't have to... I mean, that's way too much..."

"Oh no!" Hakkai smiles brightly. He's wearing a little miner's helmet with a nice, bright light on it. The better to spot stains with, I suppose. "I just do a little at a time. Any job is manageable if you break it into cute little parts. Like only washing things with polka dots, for instance. Polka dots are cute."

* * *

That... should have made sense. 

"Are you sure the fumes aren't getting to you?" Asked gently, in case of madness. "Maybe it's time for a break?"

Hakkai looks up at me, blinding me momentarily, then over at the piles. He shrugs.

"Maybe you're right. I'll just fold this load, and leave it... for now." That 'for now' is menacing, somehow much more so than Sanzo's. It's as if he's swearing to vanquish an old nemesis.

"I'll help." It's the least I can do for the Laundry Slayer.

* * *

Folding big trousers and little trousers, big shirts and little shirts, seems awkward without conversation, and so I venture: 

"Cat looks happy."

"Oh yes, she's quite content."

Static from the fabric jolts old brain cells to life.

"Hey... don't you have a pet?" Bite the collar, fold the arms in, shirt in half... "A flying, white... dragonmobile, or something?"

The look on Hakkai's face catches me off guard. His big eyes seem almost tearful, and his hair flops down.

Crap. Wrong subject.

* * *

"Yes." He answers before I can think of a segue to a new topic. "Jeep. My little white dragon." 

"Um." Skillfully direct the conversation in both an enlightening and encouraging manner.

"But the transformation that made us all so small and cute... well, it was too much for him, I suppose.

"I'm so sorry."

I really am. Here he's been taking care of my kitty, and his own little fuzzy friend is... is...

* * *

Hakkai holds out a hand. I consider hugging him, until I notice a bit of fluff and metal on his palm. 

Like a motorist passing a traffic accident, I can't stop myself from looking closer.

"Poor little Jeep. It seems that he was so cute to begin with that further chibification could only do this."

Collectable Keychain.

* * *

Fight down the desire to pet the fuzz. It looks so soft... 

"That's... awful.

"He certainly thinks so."

"Huh? You mean..."

"Kyuuuu!"

* * *

The keychain dragon sits up on Hakkai's palm, and flaps its minuscule wings. 

"He rather misses being able to transform without the others playing with the toy car. And it's difficult, being so small. I have to make sure he doesn't get blown away or stepped on, so... Well, we're getting by." Hakkai's shiny, serious eyes meet mine. "But we really need to get back to Chibigenkyo."

* * *

Words fail me. 

Reach out a finger. Pet tiny dragon.

It purrs. Much louder than my evil cat. And it doesn't bite _or_ scratch me.

"Of course." I sigh. "Poor little thing."

"Ah ha ha ha... it's not all bad. He's enjoying eating your houseflies."

"Good. Just... good."

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

The working title for this was "In Which Plot Holes Are Filled, and it's funnier if you know that I generally type this up as I'm doing laundry. Many loads have been accomplished during spell-checking and editing. 

Note: In the (original) manga, the dragon's name is Jeep. It was changed to Hakuryu, which means 'white dragon', for the anime, out of concern for copyright problems. Either way, Hakkai has a rather... direct way of naming pets. But I'll stick to Jeep. Easier to spell.

For those who care, Britain was... nice. But it contains too many of my relatives for my personal comfort. The best way to promote harmony among my distended extended family is for us all to live on different continents.

It's good to be back.


	40. Part 40: In Which Comeuppance Comes

**Part 40: In Which Comeuppance Comes**

Fold, fold, and fold some more. Socks and spare robes and more socks and boxer shorts with comical hearts on them.

"So... what brings you down here?" It's Hakkai's turn to start a conversation. "I thought you didn't like the basement."

I had almost forgotten my troubles among these warm towels, but here they come: like mental Mongol Hordes rushing back across the Ural Mountains of my consciousness.

------

"Sanzo. Holding my computer hostage. Won't go away."

"Ah. I see..." Hakkai ponders. Try to think of a new topic, since the turn has reverted to me. I wonder how we keep score?

Hakkai speaks up abruptly, saving me the effort:

"I... think I know a way." He hesitates, then sighs with resignation. "I hate to do this to a fellow chibi, but he deserves some punishment for poor Kougaiji."

------

Sanzo. Punishment. Good.

------

"Yes?" Do I sound a little too hopeful?

Hakkai pulls a blanket out of the dryer, then motions me over. He whispers in my ear.

------

It might work.

Just might.

He gives me the blanket, and smiles an evil, yet lovable, smile.

"Do your best."

------

He will kill me.

Sanzo may be small, but so is my cat, and my cat nearly kills me regularly. And she doesn't have opposable thumbs.

He's definitely going to make my life miserable.

Which he's already doing, so...

------

That stream of thought flows inevitably down to the Sanzo-based consequences of Hakkai-based ideas. The feet, however, are following quite a different track, inexorably climbing the stairs, transferring my body from room to room until the target is visible. The feet, having finished their part in the conspiracy, pass the torch to the hands, which spin the computer chair, Sanzo and all, to face me.

'I've done my bit.' says my body to my brain. 'Now it's your turn'

'...the hell?' replies my brain muzzily, still not quite with the new agenda.

------

Fortunately, Sanzo knows _his_ lines.

"Problem?" He stares icily into my blurry eyes.

The body decides that the brain still isn't ready for its job and acts on its behalf:

Hold up the warm, fuzzy blanket.

------

From it's comfortable back seat, my brain critiques this: 'Like that'll work. Prepare to receive sarcastic comments.'

My body responds by suggesting that if my brain can do any better, it should get off its ass and do some talking.

------

Sanzo is silent.

His eyes are wider than ever, like a deer in the headlights, or a suspect on 'Cops'.

This is unexpectedly optimistic.

Wave warm blanket.

The encouraged brain finally steps up to the plate with Hakkai's words:

"I'll snuggle you!"

------

Sanzo's face loses all color. He backs away, kicking a few books off the chair in his haste.

"You... you wouldn't!"

Unfold blanket. Stretch it out. Shake lightly.

"Blanket. Warm! SNUGGLY!"

Sanzo screams like a little girl and runs away.

------

Problem solved. Ha ha.

------  
chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi  
------

Check out the **New Fan Art** by **Caligatio-Umbra**! Head over to my profile page, where the link is right at the top. Yea, verily, it is terribly cute.

And Wildgirlxyz3 made a **Team Sparkle** hat and shirt. All this fan-activity, it wouldn't surprise me if the team took the cup this year!

Oh, and Kougaiji says 'Thanks!', or at least his closest verbal approximation thereof. He left you a **message** on my profile as well.

Btw: ffdotnet seems to be freaking out today, which is why the format is different. Back to normal soon, I hope.


	41. Part 41: In Which One is Waylaid

When Chibis Attack! Part 41

**Part 41: In Which One is Waylaid**

Toss the Victory Blanket on the couch. Sit.

Move kitten picture to outside storage. Reboot.

Play Free Cell industriously while Searching for Inspiration.

My search for Inspiration reveals...

Inspiration is hard to come by.

---

Distraction, however, is easily found. 

In his sleep, Kougaiji keeps trying to hug things: my files, my electric pencil sharpener, my mouse. It is rather inconvenient.

"Ssnrrrk... I could wun the cookie factowy for you, Sir! Zzzznck... 'm good wif peopull... suppwy my own wabour... Mmmmmsnrk..."

Don't ask. Don't even think. Just try to cope.

Look for a hug soother. A sacrificial hug-target. Something huggable.

Hm. Blanket.

---

The blanket moves.

---

Dammit! Why do inanimate objects keep going all animate on me? Is this the next stage, beyond cute little men?

Reach for the broom.

Blanket drops off the couch, advances toward me.

Raise broom.

---

Blanket sprouts a head.

A head with two antennae and a rather indecent look on its face.

Gojyo manages to get enough of the blanket under control to attempt a pose. He gives me a sly look.

"Hey, babe. I hear you're looking for someone to snuggle."

---

Consider following through with Operation: Broom Smacking.

Gojyo is unaware of my strategic broom maneuvers:

"Sanzo's just not the snuggling _type_." He continues, leaning against the chair. Which swivels, causing him to become even more tangled in the blanket. "But I am. And, hey! It just so happens that I have this nice, warm blanket..."

I know that blanket is clean. I saw Hakkai take it out of the dryer.

So how does Gojyo manage to make it seem dirty?

---

Roach or not, I can't bring myself to smack him with a broom. Not quite.

Look for something else to smack him with. I need that blanket for Operation: Hug Freedom.

Unless...

---

"Ah! Clumsy me!" Gojyo tries to sound innocent. Fails miserably. "I've gotten all tangled up. What would I do if someone, say, tried to snuggle me?"

Pick Gojyo up.

Ignore his waggling eyebrows.

Wrap blanket around him as tightly (and quickly) as possible.

"Eek!" He says in a falsetto voice, grinning hugely.

"Eek is right." I mutter.

Fold the blanket over his head, turn and spin, making a Gojyo Gyoza with blanket pastry.

Put entire package in Hugging Range of snoring Kougaiji.

"Yarg! Wait! Wrong person!" Kougaiji, still in the land of Infinite Cookie Space, attaches to Gojyo, or at least enough of the blanket that Gojyo can't get out.

---

"What?" I, too, can fake an innocent voice. I, too, am very bad at it. "I heard you needed a hug."

"But... but..." comes the plaintive voice of the captive within the blanket.

There is duct tape in my desk drawer. Duct tape is Life's Mute Button. Do I need the duct tape?

"I guess this isn't too bad..." Gojyo mumbles, lost in the huge blanket, and now under the full onslaught of a sunbeam. His voice grows sleepier by the minute, hardly even threatening by the time he mumbles: "But if he drools on me, there's going to be Trouble!"

---

Goku enters the room.

"Oh, hey - is it nap time already?" He asks, climbing up onto the desk.

Gojyo doesn't answer. A huge snot bubble blows out of one corner of the blanket in time to his snores, negating Hakkai's earlier careful washing.

This is answer enough for Goku, who claims an un-snotted piece of the blanket for himself and curls up.

---

"Yes, I suppose it _is_ nap time." Hakkai muses from Customary Heart Attack Position on my right shoulder. Maybe he's not a chibi at all. Maybe he's a parrot, and he thinks I'm a pirate.

I do have a great deal of respect for Captain Morgan...

---

And so, one ridiculous paperweight becomes four paperweights, and the snoring is once again harmonious, with the single exception of Kougaiji's on-going dream.

"Ffffnnnrrr... Cookie yiewd up ten pewcent! Hmmmmm..."

Pretend to work. Return to Free Cell.

---

Sanzo pops in and out of view on occasion, obviously searching for something. The magnifying glass and Sherlock Holmes outfit are a dead giveaway.

He won't find it, though. Not with the evil little smile on Hakkai's peacefully sleeping face.

No, it'll take another plot event or two before he finds that sucker. Ha!

---  
chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi  
---

Why the heck is that line-break tag not working?

Apparently this fic has inspired another... by **Stabbity Death** called "Ongaku Niji". Replace Saiyuki with Final Fantasy and booze with coffee, and you have a terribly cute story. Apparently I'm not the only person with a fear of doorbells.

Along with last posting's, there are 8 fanart available at the bottom of my profile, and now people have two more chibi-inspired fics, not to mention at least five Team Sparkle shirts. The world is getting cuter!

My eyes... they've gone all sparkly... can't see...

Snnrrf.

Review and I will love you even more.


	42. Part 42: In Which They Are Constructive

**Part 42: In Which They Are Constructive**

As the sun slowly shifts across the sky, and Sanzo searches for the bottle in vain, Sleeping Cutie and the Delinquent Dwarves roll in the direction of sunbeam travel. This results in Goku eventually getting stuck in the crack between the desk and the wall.

This, in turn, results in pulleys and gantries being set up, hard hats being worn, and much generalized doing-of-stuff.

* * *

They aren't hallucinations. Hallucinations don't make this much mess. Or mess with as many people. 

Unless this is a mass hallucination? A really slow one, happening one person at a time...

Maybe that's a clue: no one seems to notice the little freaks unless they're alone with them. Or alone with me and them. But I'm beginning to suspect that that's because I don't count as 'someone' anymore.

* * *

"Hey..." My query draws Hakkai's attention away from his clipboard and bullhorn. "Are you guys afraid of crowds?" 

"No. Why do you ask?" He adjusts his safety goggles. Overseeing a Monkey-Freeing Site is hard work.

"I've just noticed you're more... sociable... when people are alone."

"Ah. That's Policy, I'm afraid."

"Policy."

"Oh, yes."

* * *

Gojyo staggers past with a load of two-by-fours under his arm. Two by four centimeters, that is. He dumps them by my pencil sharpener and returns, dusting his hands. He pauses in his labors to look up at me, and recite, in the manner of a union worker explaining mandatory tea-breaks: 

"Chibi Policy: Leave no witnesses."

* * *

Work halts momentarily around the site, or 'my desk' as it was once known, and everyone knods their approval - even Goku, who is doing his best impression of Boy Stuck in a Well. 

"Very important, that. White Coat Avoidance Laws."

"Hmph. Hormonal Housewife Prevention."

"Too many hugs spoil the chibi."

* * *

Either that was plausible, or I've completely lost my mind. 

Which is also plausible.

* * *

Maybe I'm just a drunk who's seeing things. 

Things that break things, like my pencil sharpener, which is now the motor of a makeshift crane.

* * *

Sigh.

* * *

Get up, dislodging assorted gantries and hoists. 

Grab Mr. Jacket and head for the Door.

* * *

"Where are you going?" 

"The bars should be open by now."

"...there's plenty of rum in the fridge."

"I know. There's something else I need."

* * *

In the time it takes me to put on Mr. Jacket and get out the Door, Goku is miraculously un-stuck, and everyone of unusual smallness rushes past my ankles like Garden Gnomes with Abandonment Issues.

* * *

The walk to the Bar, conveniently located on the next block, is generally so uneventful that I could do it blindfolded, staggering slightly, and being randomly spun in circles by an invisible giant with an odd sense of humor. 

It becomes far more eventful when attempted while trailing suspiciously mobile inanimate objects: garden ornaments, pieces of shrubbery, the odd squirrel. Though I think the squirrels only joined out of curiosity...

...actually, it's a little odd how the accumulating squirrels are marching in rows. Do squirrels normally do that?

* * *

What the hell. 'Normal' isn't a word I'd use to describe _any_ squirrel. 

Damn, I wish it was just the giant-spinning, like usual. But that generally only happens on the way _back_...

* * *

Grab the microphone. 

Tap tap - SqueeeEEEEEE!

"Is this thing on?" Ignore cursing. "Sorry, I've always wanted to do that." The cursing drowns out my mumbles for a moment.

* * *

Take a deep breath. 

"Well, here goes. A-hem. My name is... uh, not important. Anyway, I'm here because I'm an alcoholic-"

"Dammit, lady, A.A. is down the street. This is karaoke night!" This patron may be unhappy because he knows his future is filled with high decibel screeching and moaning. Or he may be here for the cheap booze.

"I know! I know that, I'm just... practicing. Besides, this is better than anything else you'll hear here tonight..."

* * *

"Huh. That's the first time I've been kicked out of a bar." Sitting on the concrete curb, kicking rocks into the street. My 'props' have been ejected with me, and create an interesting modern-art arrangement of silliness. 

"No kidding. And you're such a good customer." Says an obviously papier-mache rock in the shape of a super-deformed Sanzo priest. It fratricidally kicks a real rock into the street, grumbling. "Now _none_ of us can do karaoke, thanks to you. I had a bunch of songs lined up..."

Try to kick the fake rock. Miss. Stub toe on curb.

* * *

"Outchit." 

"Why go there, anyway?" asks Hakkai, a few leafy, green twigs tucked into his headband.

"You broke my shrink, remember? I thought I'd try something new."

"Some lady just threw me peanuts!" Son 'Dances With Squirrels' Goku cavorts merrily. The squirrels look a little perturbed at his monopolizing of the park-bench peanuts. I consider charging admission, should they attack him.

Gojyo sets his camouflaging Garden Gnome on the pavement beside me, and pulls out his cigarettes.

"A.A. is down the street, you know."

* * *

Moment of Silence

* * *

"But that's a hell of a long way to walk." He continues. 

"But worth the ef-frrgh! Mrrf!" Hakkai is silenced by the Rock.

"Shh! You idiot!" The coincidentally Sanzo-shaped rock hisses in his ear. "If she stops drinking, who'll buy us beer? No cigarettes, no beer - _I will really kill you all_."

* * *

Sounds like a sensible argument to me. 

I wonder if they'll let me back in if I promise to stay away from the microphone? And keep my fake-looking singing rock to myself.

Probably not.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

A.A. is Alcoholics Anonymous, if they don't have it where you live. Or if it means Auto Association there. Or Alpine Artists. 

This update took so long because I painted the deck, bought a new bed, bought a color printer, restored a friend's 50 year-old wedding photos, messed around with the set up of the drive I store this on, and bought brandy beans, which are the root of all dissolution and neglect.

Alcohol, wrapped in chocolate, is to blame. Live with it.

Also, I wrote this part in spring, when squirrels decided to mate in my flowerbeds, not ten feet from where I and **My Cat** were eating breakfast - outside and unfettered on the un-stained deck. I felt this was possibly the worst insult a carnivore could experience, and we sat in embarrassed silence for a good 10 minutes before the kettle boiling gave us an excuse to go back indoors, away from the furry antics.

I think my cat is a humanitarian. She only eats people.

Next time: Chibis Attack! (don't they?)


	43. Part 43: In Which Chibis Attack!

**Part 43: In Which Chibis Attack!**

Sitting on the curb outside the bar, contemplating my next step or lack thereof, twiddling my thumbs and watching the chibis be very silly indeed.

Mr. Hackensplutter, an extremely 'regular' at this bar, staggers over and flops onto the pavement beside me. His grating cough heralds his presence, and the Old Man Smell advances relentlessly before him. A real alcoholic's alcoholic, this guy.

* * *

He attempts to console me… or make conversation, or hit on me. It's all very confusing, and would probably make more sense if I was as drunk as he is. 

Oh, the good old days…

* * *

Glance around, as the incomprehensible dialogue continues. No one on the street to come to my assistance, at least as a translator. Everyone is still inside, abusing music. 

"Um. Yeah. Sorry, I have to go." I'm sorry, Mr. Hackensplutter, my drunk translation skills have suffered since I've been marooned in Relatively Sober Land.

"Buthmrrghl, hrrkfrrsten, Hack Hack Hack!"

"Really? Wow, look at the time. See you!"

"Frrsten smurf nrrgl!"

"_BANZAI!_"

* * *

Kougaiji is followed in his attack by an army of woodland creatures. 

Disenfranchised squirrels, oppressed badgers, unhappy sparrows…

* * *

Run. 

And don't look back.

* * *

Slam the door. Draw the curtains. Collapse on couch. 

"Are you okay? Should I get the little stethoscope?" Hakkai tries to take my pulse as I clutch at my head.

"I wuv you."

* * *

Lift head from hands to see Kougaiji, standing on my knees, looking up at me in deep concern. There is a blue bird on his shoulder. 

A blue bird wearing a camouflage helmet, with a tiny radio clutched in its claw.

* * *

Snap.

* * *

"You attacked a harmless old drunk!" 

"He wuz showting…"

"He was harmless! And you set _squirrels_ on him!

"He smewwed funny…"

"Not funny enough to attack!"

"Sowwy, Mummy…"

His huge eyes fill with tears.

Dammit…

* * *

No. 

If I don't do something now, he'll never learn.

* * *

Grab a shipping box. Write "Penalty" on the side in big, black letters. 

Pick up Kougaiji, who has been confused by my sudden activity, and is now uncertain of the current strategic merit of crying.

Put Kougaiji in the box.

Put the box in the corner.

* * *

Kougaiji decides that this may be a 'cry-type' situation after all. 

"Sniiiffffff…"

"No." Tap his nose with one finger – the same method used on naughty kittens. "This is for your own good." Nearly choke on my mother's words. "You attacked a helpless old drunk with an Army of Woodland Creatures. That's _not nice_. Stay in the box for…" Check watch. "Ten Minutes."

"But!"

"No buts! No attacking drunks, no assembling armies, no training attack badgers! _Ten Minutes_!"

* * *

The Kitchen. And Quickly! 

…but not before hearing Goku – a little late home, having stayed to watch the end of the battle – complain:

"Hey! Why's Kougaiji get to sit in a box? _I_ wanna sit in a box!"

* * *

I am never having children. 

But I _am _having a drink. Mr. Refrigerator, if you would be so kind?

* * *

Chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

There's a difference between a 'functional' alcoholic, and a 'non-functional' one… and one who's just been beaten up by a loyal youkai army. I mean, squirrel army. I mean… 

Aw, heck. This is one of my favorite chapters. Hope you liked it. Hope you spotted the build-up in previous chapters, anyway… Foreshadowing, who knew this fic was so _classy_?

Next Time: …you wouldn't believe me if I told you.


	44. Part 44: In Which There Are Issues

**Part 44: In Which There Are Issues  
**

"I'm sure the old fellow will be alright." Hakkai uses his most comforting tones as I down the first of what I hope will be many refreshing libations. "After all, killing isn't cute."

"He's an old drunk! He could have had a heart attack."

"I suppose so… but since they outnumbered him by so many, he really should have won."

"What?"

"Oh, it's nothing. What would you like for dinner? I think you missed lunch today, due to the Kougaiji Incident. Um… the first one, that is, not this current one, which is more of a comical segue into..."

Genial conversation about the prospect of good food. Along with the ongoing sounds of the Box Wars from the other room, it's very distracting, which is good.

Ah, sweet alcohol: numbs the brain…

* * *

Sanzo enters the room: 

"When's dinner snuggle?"

Attempt ear reset. No – still doesn't make sense.

"What the snuggle are you staring at snuggle?" Sanzo takes our mute amazement with his usual dash of offense.

* * *

Venture a comment: "You keep saying 'snuggle'." 

Sanzo is taken aback by this: "No, I snuggle don't!"

"You just said it again, there."

He gives Hakkai an imploring look that communicates the utterly obvious fact that he would never voluntarily mention 'snuggles' or anything snuggle-like, and therefore I must be out of my mind.

"Tell her I'm snuggle not."

"Ah… sorry…" Hakkai's cheeks have developed round, pink patches, which mean that either he's having an allergic reaction, or the cuteness has overwhelmed him. Either way, I'm on my own.

* * *

"Look, we can hear you. You're saying 'snuggle' every few seconds." Attempt to convince Sanzo that, while I am a drunk, this has not effected my hearing. 

"It's just hiccups. Snuggle."

"Hiccups."

"Right."

"R-"

"Snuggle."

"-eally…"

* * *

Gojyo chooses this moment to make his Grand Entrance. Or rather, to mooch into the kitchen, as usual. A momentary glimpse of what's around the corner explains his sudden appearance: Goku and Kougaiji have attached wheels and wings to the Penalty Box, and are making Punishment Time look like far too much fun. 

Gojyo, sensing Sanzo's distress, can't resist adding fuel to the fire.

"It's probably because Sanzo's so repressed, you know, like his fear of fluffy blankets. He's got _Issues_."

"What the snuggle are you talking about? _You're_ the snuggling Pervert!"

* * *

"I think it's getting worse." Hakkai whispers, his eyes huge, and face entirely pink. He's peeking out from behind the safety of the cookie jar, perhaps afraid of catching Infectious Cuteness Disease. 

"Don't worry, Sanzo." Gojyo gives Sanzo a death-defying pat on the back, and a look of angelic altruism. "We're here to help. Hakkai, pass me that lab coat."

* * *

They dutifully deal with the costume change, while Sanzo continues his complaints, demands and hiccups. Or 'hic-cutes'? 

Gojyo finally fixes his moustache into place and turns to Sanzo.

"Now zen. Tell me about your mah-ther. What wuz she rike?"

* * *

Poor Dr. Fraid. I hope the government accountant squad will be nice to him on account of his having recently been savaged by Chibis.

* * *

Sanzo doesn't appreciate Gojyo's efforts to readjust his psychology: "I didn't snuggle _have_ a mother. I had a snuggle monk. Idiotsnuggle…" 

"Oh, come now." Gojyo has found a little clipboard with a heart on the back, and is industriously drawing dirty pictures on it. "Everink one has unt mah-ther. Evink a sunufabeep like you…"

* * *

There is a brief, yet explicit, moment of violence, culminating in Sanzo trying to stuff Gojyo into the blender. 

"Now, now, Sanzo – we need him alive, if only so we can stand behind him when people are shooting at us." Hakkai is always so supportive and helpful. And a little passive-aggressive. But considering how various chibis have reacted to analysis so far, I think I'll keep that observation to myself.

* * *

Sanzo's fury is undampened, despite the frustration of trying to fit a 10-cup chibi into a 5-cup blender. 

Discreetly pull the plug, just in case.

* * *

Sanzo decides that since actual blending is now out of the question, there must be verbal attacks as well. 

"Say Uncle!"

"Uncle!"

This is far too easy for Sanzo, who is still randomly saying 'snuggle' at terribly uncool moments.

"Say Auntie!"

"Auntie!"

Gojyo's 'path of least resistance' philosophy regarding Blender Time is just not satisfying Sanzo. He kicks it up a notch.

"Say Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!"

"SupercaliFraggleRockJimHensonocious!"

* * *

I'd better put a stop to this, before I end up with more scary little 'things' living in my house. The current entourage are more than enough. Much more… 

"Gee, look at the time." Try the subtle approach, as the outright approach could lead to more biting. The Voice of Reason is attempted: "You'd better hurry if you're going to get a nap in before dinner."

"Hmphsnuggle." Sanzo retreats from his abuse of kitchen gadgetry.

"You missed nap time earlier. Maybe your – uh – hiccups will go away if you get some rest. You might just be tired." And one final concession, on behalf of my blender: "You can have the big bed if you want. I've had my nap."

Sanzo stalks wordlessly to the edge of the counter and hops off. He turns on his way out of the kitchen to shoot us all one last, vicious glare.

"…snuggle. Dammit!"

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

I told you you wouldn't believe me. 

Is there anything that's as much fun as watching Sanzo suffer?

I guess you'll find out next time…


	45. Part 45: In Which There is Wonder

**Part 45: In Which There is Wonder**

"Hmm… Sanzo just doesn't seem himself, does he?" Hakkai continues his proud tradition of appearing unexpectedly behind me.

"Yeah. That wasn't half as painful as I thought it would be." Gojyo has gotten back to his feet, but his head remains firmly stuck in the blender. Somehow, this is not a barrier to conversation. His voice just echoes a little more than usual.

"I wonder what's wrong?"

"You mean besides being compelled to constantly say 'snuggle'?" I feel compelled to mention the obvious.

"Nah. I'm sure that's something to do with his Mah-ther."

* * *

Sigh. 

Leave it. Let chibis deal with chibi problems.

Abandon the kitchen as Hakkai tries to remove the blender from Gojyo's head without also removing Gojyo's ears.

* * *

Goku and Kougaiji have painted the penalty box red and are writing "_Video Flyer_" on the side. Out of deferential respect for the Law of Mother, Kougaiji remains inside the box, even while painting. 

The blue bird, with its hand radio, remains on his shoulder. The occasional crackle of static can be heard, followed by chittering or twittering –

Or drunken mumbling?

* * *

No way. Kougaiji may be a charismatic leader, but I doubt Mr. Hackensplutter would join any group that beat him up. 

Then again, if he _won_…

This train of thought is too silly. I'm taking it off the tracks until I can guarantee its silliness is back under control.

* * *

Drink.

* * *

Yes. That's better. With all the out-of-control silliness taking place _outside_ my head, I don't need my own thoughts joining in. 

Flop on the chair, but don't bother even thinking about work. History would want these moments observed, if only so that someone can testify at the trial.

* * *

Goku has fastened his Nyoi-Bo to the front of the _Video Flyer_, using extra-strength rubber bands, and wound it tight as a kind of propeller. 

Kougaiji, goggles in place and dashing scarf thrown over his shoulder, is finishing his pre-flight checks, and…

* * *

Wait a sec… pre-_flight_?

* * *

"Uh, guys?" The countdown is temporarily halted, and Kougaiji stands to salute me. The goggles make his eyes googley. 

"Yes, Mummy?"

"Yargh. Anyway, I'm sure it's been more than 10 minutes by now. You can get out of the box if you like."

* * *

Ridiculous fish-eye goggles blink up at me. 

"Fank you, Mummy, but it's a wuvly box. I weally wike it. Can we pway wiff it a bit wonger?"

"Yeah…" Goku finishes attaching the wing lights and rolls out from underneath the box on a dolly. He gazes up at me, the Provider of Great Boxes. "Can we keep it? Pleeeeeease, Kougaiji's Mom?"

* * *

Why not? That thing'll never fly.

* * *

"Ah, go on then. Just don't – wait. What did you call me?" 

"Mummy?" Pipes the pint-sized pilot.

"Not you. The other little maniac."

"Kougaiji's Mom?" The other little maniac pipes in puzzlement.

"Don't call me that."

"Then what should we call you?"

"I'm – "

"Dinner's ready!" Hakkai's voice echoes out of the blue.

And Goku's gone, leaving a carefully secured propeller, an open tin of paint, and a dust cloud.

Never mind. I don't care if they call me Red Baron, as long as no one calls me 'Kougaiji's Mom'.

Put away the paint. Help Kougaiji put blocks around the wheels. Go towards my just desserts.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

For those of you who are too young to remember **Fraggle Rock**, a 'loyal fan' – read: my brother – sent me a video of the intro. It's linked from my profile. Don't forget to review first, though, or I will cry. 

And some of you have remarked that Goku and Gojyo don't fight (each other) enough in this. The reason is summed up in one word: **Kougaiji**.

As soon as Kougaiji shows up – in the manga, in the anime, and in this story – Goku forgets pretty much everything else and they go play… I mean fight. Like best friends! But I'll try to get more Goku-baiting in here in the future. In the meantime… box! Don't you just love a good box...?

Next time: Bedside Manners!


	46. Part 46: In Which There is a Mess

**When Chibis Attack! **

**Part 46: In Which There is a Mess **

"You got dinner together awfully quick." A hint of jealousy in my voice. I wish I could pull things out from behind my back whenever I wanted them. Things like… rum.

"Ah ha ha… yes, well, you missed lunch, so I thought we could eat early. It's just spaghetti."

* * *

There are many awful and imaginative scenarios that might come to one's mind when considering combining Chibis and sauce-laden strings of pasta. 

They all happen in rapid succession.

It is quite horrible.

* * *

Somewhere in the middle of the mess and general hilarity, Goku's appetite cedes temporary control of his mouth to his brain. Food ceases going in long enough for words to come out. 

"Hey… where's Sanzo?"

Lower my hastily-acquired umbrella and observe the table. Take advantage of this moment to pick a few pieces of tomato out of my hair.

Curse the fools who invented pasta.

* * *

"Oh my – you're right, Goku. He's not here. I was wondering why things were quite so out-of-control…" Hakkai lowers the Ladle of Destruction as he contemplates the limiting effects of the Fan of Punishment. He tries to clean his monocle on his filthy shirt. I don't envy him the laundry he's going to be looking at after this. 

And I have no intention of helping him, either. Little beggar deserves what he gets after making spaghetti of mass destruction, for crying out loud.

* * *

"Is he still napping?" Gojyo lowers his pot lid shield, honoring the not-so-white flag of truce. 

"I suppose we should check on him."

"Yeah. Sure." Mutter under my breath. Anything that gets me a clean shirt. And fresh socks. Dammit.

They'd better clean this mess up.

* * *

The chibigettis lay down newspaper (carefully preserving the comics and an article about baby giraffes) and cluster in the middle of it. 

"Umbrella down!" Hakkai calls.

I'm way ahead of him,

In fact, I'm so far ahead of him, I'm out of the kitchen.

* * *

God only knows how they did it, but in the time it takes me to get into a new shirt (and socks), they also are surprisingly clean. 

Approach the closed door of my small bedroom with trepidation, and a slight basil smell.

* * *

Sanzo is tucked up in the big bed, sheets up to his chin. He looks rather pale, even for him. 

Disturbed by the noise and light of the door opening, he lifts his head and coughs:

"Snuggle snuggle snuggle!"

This 'cough' is followed by a string of curses that aren't half so cute.

* * *

"Sigh…" sighs Hakkai. His look of resignation almost hides the blush that's returned to his cheeks. "I suppose this means that I'll have to get the stethoscope." 

He slouches out of the room, moaning, "Oh, my poor ears!"

Well, if that doesn't throw you…

* * *

Approach the bedside of the afflicted. Predictably, Goku and Gojyo have beaten me to it, and are taking a cruelty-based approach to First 'Aid'. 

Sanzo responds gracefully, with plenty of "Don't touch me!", "Get the hell out of here!" and "Die! Die! Die!" He is often interrupted by his snuggle-cough, which only encourages the abuse.

* * *

I wonder if there's even anything that I _can_ do to help. I mean, how do you treat a little homunculus with verbal diarrhea, anyway? 

I guess I could relieve the secondary symptoms caused by Helpless to Fight Back.

* * *

Grab Goku and Gojyo by collars, remove to the end of the bed. 

"But!"

"Sit." They don't. "Stay." They don't do that either, instead moving just out of reach and glaring at me. I guess chibis have quite a lot in common with cats after all.

* * *

Sanzo glares up at me as well, suspicious of anyone who really is helping. "What the snuggle do _you_ want? Snuggle." 

His night cap has plush, pointy ears on it.

There are kittens on his jammies.

He squints up at me, then breaks into a coughing fit.

"Snugglesnugglesnuggle!"

* * *

Thank my few, dim lucky stars that Hakkai arrives with the lab coat and stethoscope just in time. We've already had one Near-Death Cuddle Experience, and I'm sure that the near-death in this case would have been my own. 

"Excuse me, please." Hakkai climbs up on the bed and proceeds to the patient. "Give him some room."

"Finally, snuggle." Sanzo mumbles, still eyeing me, as if presciently aware of my guilty thoughts.

Carefully clear my mind, focusing all thoughts on… rum.

* * *

In the time it takes to pour a glass and return, Hakkai has reached a diagnosis. 

"Acute hugosis." He states definitively.

"What the snuggle is that?" The patient queries in confusion.

"Eh?" Hakkai leans a stethoscope-plugged ear down to Sanzo's level.

Sanzo takes the more direct route, grabbing the end of the stethoscope to yell, "I said, WHAT THE SNUGGLE IS–"

* * *

Hakkai falls off the bed. 

Now I understand why he hates the little stethoscope. That would hurt _anyone's_ ears. I bet it happens every time, too.

After all, a good gag deserves recycling.

* * *

Chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

I've been leading up to that forever. Feels so good to get it out of my system. 

I'll be posting some fan-art of this some time this week. When I do, I'll link to it from my profile. I'm just too lazy to do it tonight.

I love your reviews. Some of you have great ideas... and I think you'll like what's going to happen.

Next time: Patients. Or patience. Can't remember which…


	47. Part 47: In Which There is a Rescue

**When Chibis Attack! **

**Part 47: In Which There is a Rescue **

Once the birds circling Hakkai's head have been chased away, and this Doctor of Cuteology has managed to sit upright again, he repeats the diagnosis.

"Sanzo is suffering from Acute Hugosis, which is Doctor Talk for being too cute and really needing a hug." He spells it out carefully, trying to smooth down his frizzed-out hair.

* * *

Sanzo is not pleased. 

"You're just making that snuggle up!"

"I'm afraid not." Hakkai continues gravely. "It's quite serious, and I'm sure you've noticed that it's rapidly getting worse. If you don't get a proper infusion of hugs soon, you could – ahem – dun dun DUUUUUN – ahem – die."

Do chibi diagnoses always feature a musical interlude? Or just serious ones? And does this count as 'serious'?

* * *

A moment of silence seems appropriate following such… probably serious news. But anyway, this one is taking too long. 

"So, someone just needs to hug him?"

No one meets anyone's eye, and Hakkai taps a foot and examines the curtains as he answers my inquiries.

"That would be the usual course of treatment, on most chibis, in a situation similar –"

"I will kill you all."

* * *

Sanzo is not having any trouble meeting anyone's eye, but instead somehow manages to give everyone a very powerful death glare at the same time. 

It's a wonder his eyes don't cross.

Then the coughing fit breaks in again.

"Snugglesnugglesnuggle! Ah, motherf-"

"Maybe it's all in his head, though, Hakkai." Gojyo, Hug Doctor to the Stars, interrupts just in time. See, he's talking about is mah-ther…"

* * *

The violence is brief and profound, and leaves Gojyo hanging from the shower curtain in the bathroom. 

Aside from impressing on Gojyo the dangers of offering a Second Opinion, it also impresses on everyone else their fate, should they try to hug Sanzo.

Acute Hugosis doesn't seem to affect the ass-kicking sectors of the brain.

* * *

In a situation like this, it makes perfect sense to volunteer… someone else. 

"Uh… Goku!" He steps back as I turn to him. "He's your… monk. Surely you –"

"I… uh… I think I left the Video Flyer fueling up! Better go!"

He's terribly fast for someone with such short legs.

* * *

By the time I say, "Hakkai! He's your patient. So, you –" Hakkai is already half-way out the door. 

"Sorry, can't hear you! Stethoscope Ear, you know. Oh look! Gojyo needs medical attention…" Those words get him the rest of the way out to safety.

* * *

A sinking pit of despair forms in my gut, one I haven't felt since I first discovered that I was expected to do something meaningful with my life. Some time around Fifth Grade…

* * *

Desperately avoid Sanzo's glare – but it's like a hook, drawing the eye downward. Once he has firmly captured the entirety of my visual range, he growls a dire warning: 

"I may be small, but I know Kung Fu!"

* * *

I fear for my life. 

But he's covered in Kittens!

* * *

Then the Red Cross Rescue Plane arrives. 

Except that it's actually a cardboard box, painted red, with cardboard wings and a makeshift Nyoi-Bo propeller.

Except it's _flying_…

* * *

Kougaiji sets it down as gently as a… as a… 

How the hell did he get that thing in the air? It's made of cardboard and string, for crying out loud!

Kougaiji hops over the side, and pauses to pose. His scarf flies out dramatically, fluttering in the back-lit glow.

Goku dashes across behind him with a flashlight and a fan, wearing a sign that says, "I'm Invisible."

* * *

"Curse you and your whole snuggling lighting crew…" Sanzo pulls the covers up so only his eyes show, scowling viciously out at the world. 

He looks like my cat, wrapped up in a blanket to take to the vet. The likelihood of me getting bitten also seems similar.

Fight the urge to scratch his nightcap-ears.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Those of you who are familiar with Pre WWII aviation (Anyone? Hello?) will know that the early successes in flight actually were made of cardboard and string. 

Sorry for the delay. My brother bought me a DS, and I crippled my fingers playing with it. It's like a crack habit: I know it's bad for me, but I love it…

If anyone wants to draw a picture of Sanzo in the Kitten Jammies, I will post it… on my fridge.

Next Time: Extremely Silly.


	48. Part 48: In Which Silliness Triumphs

**When Chibis Attack! **

**Part 48: In Which Silliness Triumphs **

Kougaiji comes to my wescue. I mean, rescue.

"What seems to be the pwobwem?" He inquires, striding across the quilt to the patient's side.

"He needs a huuuuuuuuuuuuug!" Gojyo hollers, no doubt still firmly tangled in the shower curtain.

* * *

Using every last ounce of his will, Sanzo rises from his sick bed. With uncanny, even preternatural aim, he hurls a large, sharp-looking fan overhand at the wall. Several ricochets and a whooshing sound later, Gojyo sounds off: 

"You missed! Ha ha! Missed me, missed me, now you gotta – hrk!"

The thunderous crash indicates that something heavy has fallen down. The lack of further taunting from Gojyo indicates exactly where it fell.

"Sanzo!" Hakkai scolds from afar, and likely behind cover. "You'll aggravate your condition! Acute hugosis is nothing to laugh about, you know."

* * *

"I see." Kougaiji rests his chin on his palm, deep in thought, as this situation plays out around him. 

Sanzo searches his pockets for a Backup Fan. He finds lint, a yo-yo, an unopened packet of gum, a pair of sunglasses, a silly moustache, several pictures of kittens…

Kougaiji attacks.

* * *

Before Sanzo can mount a defense (sick as he is and without his trusty fan), he is most viciously, cruelly, cutely hugged. 

Kougaiji even pats him on the back, and says, "There, there," or the closest verbal approximation he can manage.

* * *

Sanzo's revival, and therefore the effectiveness of the cure, is immediately proven. He pulls a pair of fans out of formerly unhelpful pockets, and lays about himself with a terrible vengeance. 

But Kougaiji is gone, already legging it for the Video Flyer as fast as his little legs can leg.

He pushes the box-with-wings to the edge of the bed, and as he jumps in he turns to favor Sanzo with the most barbaric of taunts: One finger draws the bottom lid of his eye down, revealing the gross, red underside, and his tongue protrudes from between his teeth.

A raspberry can be heard.

* * *

And what has he got in his hand? 

It looks like a length of toilet paper that someone has colored on…

"He's got the bloody Sutra! Get after him, you idiots!"

But the Video Flyer is already in the air, heaven knows how, and Kougaiji waves to me as he banks around the corner.

* * *

Well, at least they're all feeling healthy again. 

Except Gojyo. I'm thinking he's seen better days.

* * *

Chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibitoodamncutechibi

* * *

I have a few announcements to make, so bear with me, as they are **important** to you. I'll bullet point them to be kind. 

**1. New Fan Art!** By K.Mail. The first Kitty Jammies Sanzo I've received. It made me very happy. Any others will also make me happy.

**2. New Illustration!** By Me. Chibi Youkai Hakkai. 'Nuff said.

**3. ****New Omake!** Entitled "When Chibis Delay!" The apology chapter.

These three can be reached from my profile page.

****

Review before you go! Please?


	49. Part 49: In Which Gags are Needed

**When Chibis Attack! **

**Part 49: In Which Gags are Needed. **

Gojyo proves to be unexpectedly Hardy, just as a Meat Shield should be. By the time I work up the necessary intestinal fortitude to follow the Chibi Stampede, Gojyo is already skittering around the corner to the kitchen, hardly hampered by the trailing bandages and miniature crutches.

The prospect of a real fight must be deeply motivating.

* * *

From the kitchen, Kougaiji's ground crew can be heard frantically signaling.

"I told you to hug him, not steal the sutra!" Goku hollers desperately after the speeding… cardboard box.

"So this was _your_ idea…" Sanzo intones, rising out of the shadows.

Kougaiji loses transmission as Sanzo reduces his ground/lighting/effects crew to a fan-abused heap.

Feel vaguely sorry for Goku.

…But not sorry enough to help.

* * *

As Kougaiji sweeps on a second pass, sutra still fluttering behind him like a banner, he pulls out a drinking straw and a cup of dried peas. Pea-flavored death rains down upon the ground-dwelling chibis.

He waves at me, circles, and prepares to strafe again.

Remaining a Neutral Power seems the wisest choice, at this point.

* * *

"Fire in the bowl!"

Turn, just in time to see a confusing mechanical construct positioned over my fruit bowl. It suddenly erupts under the power of a Chibi Chi Blast: Gojyo aims the machine as Hakkai blasts away, sending round, red missiles skyward.

Apple after apple flies across my kitchen, overwhelming Kougaiji's Pea-Shooter. He weaves and dodges, but one of Gojyo's Finest Fujis catches him in the wing, sending him spiraling earthward.

"How do you like _them _apples? Mwa ha ha ha ha!" Gojyo delivers the line with such precise comic timing that I'm surprised he isn't wearing a watch.

* * *

Move in, to negotiate a ceasefire and prevent the abuse of Prisoners of War.

* * *

There is surprisingly little abuse as Kougaiji climbs from the wreckage, remarkably unharmed. He salutes Sanzo, and hands him the carefully folded Sutra.

Sanzo snatches it, dusts it off, gazes at it lovingly, and then shoots Kougaiji… a glare. But no bullets. Not even attempted bullets? That's not as deadly as I was expecting.

"Don't do it again." He grumbles, and walks off, trying not to look like a person joyfully hugging a length of colored-on toilet paper.

Kougaiji simply blinks, apparently in adorable incomprehension. But a mad twinkle in his eye suggests that this battle is not the end of the war.

* * *

It may be the end of the Video Flyer, though. Goku is already standing over the torn and battered box, poking it with its former Nyoi Propeller.

"I don't know if we can fix her. I mean, that's a lot of glue…"

"So what're you gonna do about it, Sir Shrimpsalot?" Gojyo inquires, leaning against his Apple Air Artillery and cheekily lighting a cigarette.

Try to recall which World War I brigade had a pink heart on a black background as its badge.

* * *

Kougaiji rests his hand on Goku's shoulder, as the two of them study the remains of their aeronautical efforts. Then he speaks, with profound meaning:

"We'll build anuvver wun. And _dis _wun… will be a wegend!"

I'm… not sure I like the sound of that, inspiring though it may be.

* * *

Chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Unbelievably, I have a _real excuse_ for the latest delay: I had houseguests. And pneumonia. At the same time.

Looking back through the reviews, I find that CTHKSI mentioned a sutra toilet-roll way back in Ch.30. I don't know if she read my mind, or I read hers, but it's a great gag.

**You Know You Want To**:

I've just finished writing the** Saccharine Cup Final: Team Sparkle vs. Team Glitter Glue**. What I haven't written is _who won_.

I'll let that sink in.

I've done a count, and so far the Fan art depicting Team Sparkle members (Kougaiji and Goku) is equal to the fan art for Team Glitter Glue (Sanzo and Gojyo). Hakkai is, of course, referee.

**Here's the Fun Part: **

I'm going to let you decide who wins. Each piece of fan art for this story that you send me a link to or a copy of, from now until I post the Cup episode, will get the artist a **vote** for his/her team.

I reserve the right to shut this down if it gets too silly. But I love your fan art… even if you don't. It _all_ goes on my fridge, much to the confusion of my visitors, and I wear my Team Sparkle hat with pride. So here's your chance to get something back. Will Team Sparkle take the cup again this year, or will the underdog Team Glitter Glue pull off a surprise win?

It's up to you…

Let me know what you think!


	50. Part 50: In Which There are Snacks

**When Chibis Attack! **

**Part 50: In Which There are Snacks **

"Ah ha ha ha… now that we have a twuce… I mean, truce, I suppose we can have a snack as well." Hakkai draws attention away from the thankfully-not-flaming wreckage of the Video Flyer.

"Yay, snacks!" Goku hoorahs peacetime snacks.

"_You're_ not getting any." Gojyo taunts him. "You were on the wrong side!"

"Was not! I was helping Sanzo!"

"Oh yeah? So that's why you helped the Flying Doctor there steal the Sutra? 'Cause Sanzo thought it was getting heavy? Wanted to ship it Air Mail to Tenchibikkyu?" Gojyo obviously isn't aware of the Geneva Convention limitations placed on Monkey Snack-Baiting.

"Was not! I was _helping_. You're the one who was just saying weird stuff about his mom!"

"Oh yeah? Well, at least I wasn't on the Youkai Lighting Crew!"

"Proper lighting's important!"

"So you switch sides for it? I thought you were Chinese, not French!" This seems to be the obligatory French joke that must come with every World War I or II parody. The fact that none of the participants should even be aware of European geography doesn't seem to slow them down. Perhaps there is a lesson in this.

Most likely not.

* * *

Either way, this post-war discussion devolves (as they always do) into two short people whacking each other on the head with sticks. 

Remember, kids: Having a truce means you can go back to beating on your own side again.

* * *

Hakkai interrupts them before the Friendly Fire starts a house fire. 

"Since Sanzo missed dinner, he can have an extra snack. Would you like one as well, Kougaiji's Mom?"

"Don't call me that!" It's reflexive: a knee-jerk vocal reaction to the absolutely insane.

"Then what should we…"

"Hand over the snacks, and no one gets hurt!" Sanzo, his toilet roll… uh, holy sutra back in its official position, climbs onto the counter and threatens everyone amiably.

I suppose he's had enough Parchment Hugging… for now.

* * *

He advances on Hakkai's tray, only to stop abruptly, frozen in place. 

Is it a relapse? Should we call Kougaiji? Or maybe not? Should I get another drink?

Get another drink.

* * *

Over the rattle of glass and ice, a few, gasped words escape Sanzo. They reach my ears like convicts car-jacking after a prison-break. 

"I… I can't eat them…"

* * *

Curiosity overwhelms me. Glass in hand for extra support; I glance down over his shaking shoulders. 

Muffins.

"Oh dear. I was afraid this might happen." Hakkai wrings his hands.

The muffin tops have been segmented and reassembled to make ears.

"After all, Sanzo is our Big Meanie. If he can't eat them, likely no one can." Hakkai wrings his hands even more, and shuffles his feet.

Along with their pink, candy noses, and Pocky whiskers, the muffins have big, chocolate-brown eyes. They gaze adoringly up at their gastronomical overlords.

"Oh come on, Hakkai. Goku can eat _anything_, even things that are bigger than his head." Gojyo and the others climb up to join Sanzo, who remains frightfully still.

Now I understand Sanzo's stillness. Sudden movements might scare the muffins…

They're too cute to eat.

* * *

"They're too cute to eat." Goku breathes, as if both saddened and awed by this state of affairs. 

"Come on, Goku, aren't you hungry?" Gojyo urges, though quietly and with rather wide eyes. "Eat one. We'll follow you."

"…but… but…" Goku draws a deep breath and lets it out in a heart-rending sigh. "I just can't! I can't believe it – a food I can't eat!"

Goku turns and mopes away, sniffling and whispering, "Defeated!"

It's rather sad.

Until Gojyo beans him in the back of the head with an apple. "Big chicken! Going to get your white flag?"

Mercifully, the fighting begins anew.

* * *

"Right." Hakkai states decisively, carefully covering the tray with foil. "That settles it. We can't eat them." 

"Then what are you going to do with them?" I ask, desperately trying to avoid thinking about the little chocolate paws sticking out of the bottom of each muffin.

"The fridge, I suppose. Can't leave them out - they'll go stale."

"We can't put them in the fridge." Sanzo whispers, in a tone of abject misery.

"Why not?"

"They'll get cold."

Everyone freezes, mentally stricken by the picture of cold little muffykins huddling together for warmth in the dark refrigerator.

* * *

And that's how my oven became a carefully-calibrated, climate-controlled Muffin Incubator. 

I need a new psychiatrist.

* * *

chibi!chibi!chibi!chibi!chibi!chibi!chibi?50chaptersalready?chibi!

* * *

Well, so far the **Saccharine Cup **is going much better than I hoped. I half-thought that no one would even express an opinion, let alone send me a picture, but… 

First (gorgeous) vote came in, from **Rexha** – also known as Jirikira over at deviantart. She's the remarkable lady who did the infamous Kougaiji Apple Shot. Links from my profile! Go see the cute!

And I gave **Hotaru-Musoka** a vote because she named a Gaia Online guild "**Team Sparkle**". So if you can't draw, but you've done something chibilicious like that, let me know and I'll mark you down.

Also, **I'm counting review votes**, though they won't be worth as much as pictures and odd things… it's complicated, I'm using math. But they still count! So make sure you review, and tell me who your favorite chibi Team is! Team Sparkle (Goku and Kougaiji) or Team Glitter Glue (Sanzo and Gojyo).

Love! Lots of Love!


	51. Part 51: In Which There is Pandering

_This chapter contains gratuitous references to So I Married An Axe Murderer and Jack Kerouac. You've been warned. _

**When Chibis Attack! Part 51 **

**Part 51: In Which There is Blatant Pandering **

Enough excitement for one night. To bed!

"Well, after all that excitement, I guess we should do something to wind down before bed." Hakkai muses, handing Sanzo a compensatory sandwich.

What does he mean, 'before'?

"Yeah, it'd be too bad if we were too cuted-out to sleep." Gojyo agrees with Hakkai. Gojyo agreeing with anyone is a sign of bad things to come.

* * *

"But… it's been a long day. You guys must be tired." Try to steer the conversation… hopelessly. 

"Nah." Goku is still applying bandages to injuries from his earlier Fan Smacking. "Nothing wakes me up like a good fight."

Suddenly, his eyes go unnaturally sparkly.

"I know! You could reebus ma fmory!" Gojyo helps Goku with his bandaging, applying one directly across his mouth.

"Don't push your luck, Monkey Boy!"

"Mrrf!"

* * *

Various alternatives to another night of 'The Little Kitten Who Could' are bandied about, and with a surprising lack of violence, they settle on a poetry reading. That is, Sanzo settles on a poetry reading. In fact, Sanzo is being unsettlingly helpful, and even explains the rules: 

"We'll take turns to read Original Works. It'll be like Karaoke Night… which 'Someone' got us kicked out of." He thumbs dismissively in my direction. "Only without the music… because 'Someone' doesn't have a karaoke machine."

I think I'm not high on his list of favorite people right now.

And that's fine, if it saves me another night of narration.

If there's one thing I hate, it's narrating.

* * *

"I'll get the spotlight!" Goku skitters off into the front room. He pauses briefly when he notices that everyone is watching him. 

"What? Good lighting's important!"

Apparently, so is a good line.

On the upside, I might not have to burn this place down. They might do it for me.

* * *

Sanzo goes first. Who thought that he wouldn't? 

He puts on his reading glasses, and adjusts his beret.

"Kitten. Kih… tennn. Those whiskers are so _classic_, so… soft."

Try very hard to tune him out. This is what I get for not owning a functional television. If I had cable, they could have been entertained for hours arguing about which channel to watch.

* * *

The sound of rustling papers and droning voices has an undeniable affect on Hakkai. He keeps nodding forward, then starting upright. 

"Uh, Hakkai? Are you alright?"

"Must… not… sleep!"

Kougaiji is reciting a poem about his favorite subject: me. Or possibly apples. Either way, sleeping through it might be a profound mercy, not unlike anesthesia is for dental surgery. Hakkai's reluctance is bizarre.

"Why not?"

"Because… now… is not… _bedtime_!"

Too cute.

* * *

Completely defeated, Hakkai falls forward to snore gently in my lap, just as Kougaiji comes to the end of his piece: 

"Jane, get me offa dis cwazy fing… called 'Wuv'." He bows. "Fank you. Fank you berry mush."

"Show stealer." Mutters Sanzo. I feel his pain: It must be tough on a hero when his series' villain is better at being a good guy than he is.

* * *

Hakkai snoozes on, his bear, Mr. Bumbles, clutched tightly to his chest, while Gojyo climbs onto the stage. That stage is the top of my defunct television, and it wobbles a bit as he pulls out his paper. I feel a little sorry for Hakkai, missing his friend's performance. 

Gojyo clears his throat, then begins:

"Oh. There. OncewasamanfromNantucket…"

* * *

Violence. Lots of Violence. Hakkai will be very glad he slept through it. 

Sanzo delivers the final kick that sends Gojyo flying of the top of the TV, then pauses to pose:

"How's _that_ for violence on television!"

Sanzo climbs down off the television, smug in the certainty that he has won this round of witty remarks. Kougaiji lowers Goku down from the lights on a string, then abruptly pauses and turns to face me.

He waves.

"Dat's all, folks!"

"Dammit!"

It's no good, Sanzo. It just doesn't get any cuter than that.

* * *

"Oh dear." Hakkai is sitting up on my lap, one-eyed Mr. Bumbles sitting up on his. "Is it over already?" 

"Yeah. Did the noise wake you up?"

"I wake up whenever Gojyo needs First Aid. Force of Habit, I'm afraid."

Strange habits. They all have many strange habits. And I need another drink…

* * *

Chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

**Saccharine Cup News! **

There's a new vote in, this time for **Team Glitter Glue**! **Caligatio-Umbra** sent a picture of Sanzo with **Acute Hugosis**, and also a **Promotional Poster** for the Saccharine Cup. It is incredibly cute.

Both are linked from my profile, and you really do need to see them… but not before you tell me what you think of Sanzo's beret!

Only two (I think) chapters left before the **Saccharine Cup**, and the teams are neck and neck! Get your votes in now! (Hakkai and Mr. Bumbles? Gojyo as the Hug Doctor? Kougaiji and the Video Flyer? The Bathroom Fig Tree?)

Next Time: It Begins.


	52. Part 52: Saccharine Cup Prelude

**When Chibis Attack! Part 52 **

**Part 52: Saccharine Cup Prelude **

Hakkai ponders the Chibis, still happily pugilising each other. He smacks a palm with his fist decisively.

"This just won't do. They're still far too full of energy."

"Maybe we could attach them to little generators." I mumble. If I don't get into bed soon, my head will hit the floor.

"A little exercise would do them good…" Hakkai continues, oblivious to my suffering.

"Arts and Crafts!" Goku chimes in.

"There's no exercise in Arts and Crafts, dimwit." Gojyo encourages his participation.

"Then maybe… Martial Arts and Crafts!"

"That's not…"

"Whee! Martial Awts and Cwafts!"

* * *

Bloody Hell. 

"I'm going to go… sleep in a dumpster or something." Lever myself out of the chair.

"No, no! We'll need you to keep score."

"Hakkai can be the umpire!"

"No way." Sanzo crosses his arms. "It sounds Stupid, and I don't want to catch your Stupid germs."

"Hmm…" Hakkai ponders. "It would be exercise. And _very_ cute…"

"I'm not doing it, Hakkai." Gojyo is willing to risk agreeing with Sanzo to avoid this latest scheme. "There's no point in looking silly if you're going to do it _on purpose_."

Desperately grasp at this chance.

"Well, I guess that means we'll all just have to go to be– "

"Sparkles."

* * *

One word. Such a dramatic effect. 

Hakkai holds the mystical bottle of Definitely Not Plot up for all to see.

All enormous eyes follow the glitter, glinting in Goku's still-lit spotlight.

"Ooooo…" They chorus.

* * *

My heart sinks. My blood alcohol level rises in a futile attempt to buoy it back up, but to no avail.

* * *

"Two teams." Hakkai intones, monocle flashing nefariously. "Capture the sparkles. Whoever wins gets to make a card." 

"Ooooo…"

"I suppose Kougaiji and Sanzo will be the Team Leaders."

"Dis is Team Spawkle!" Kougaiji announces, grabbing Goku as if this was all arranged in the pre-season drafts. I don't know, maybe it _was_. Does Sparkling have a pre-season?

And where the hell did Hakkai find those sparkles?

"Aw, shucks." Gojyo mutters, kicking the ground. "I wanna join Team Sparkle."

* * *

"Shut up, idiot!" Sanzo whacks his unwilling accomplice. "We're Team Glitter Glue, and we're gonna wipe the floor with you!" 

"Go ahead! We'll get more sparkles that way!" Goku's getting right into this. Does he always switch teams that easily? How do they ever get anything done? Maybe that's a good thing, though.

* * *

Competitive sports in my front room. Someone's going to get arrested, I just know it. 

But a night in the station could mean a night of uninterrupted sleep.

…so let them play.

* * *

"Ah ha ha ha." Laugh of Doom: Hakkai's thoughts might be paralleling my own. "I hope this doesn't get out of hand." 

Gee, what are the odds of _that_?

"It's _already _out of hand." Out of _my_ hands, anyway.

"It could be worse, though." Hakkai looks up at me with worried eyes.

"How? How could this possibly be worse? Name it!" The rush of completely assured destruction overtakes me like a Soviet dictator. "It can't get worse. I taunt you, Fates! Taunt!"

"There could be more of us."

* * *

Cassandra-like visions flood my mind of Escaflowne Enhanced Wuv Soldiers, various villains fighting over Fridgetop Posing Rights, Inuyasha drooling everywhere, Sephiroth stabbing me in the ankle, and Gundam that fall down and cry. 

Oh god… Dragon Ball Z…

"I didn't mean that, Fate." Raise my eyes imploringly heavenward. "And I love your new… haircut."

"Amen." Hakkai claps his hands solemnly.

But the lid has popped, and the Saccharine Cup is under way.

* * *

"Would you like another drink?" Hakkai looks into my glass. 

"Oh yes."

"Good. I could use one myself."

Hakkai on my shoulder, fountains of sparkles coruscating around us, we retreat to the kitchen.

If anyone scores before I get back, I figure they'll let me know.

They'll have to. I have no idea how the hell they score.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Well, it's begun. But it's not too late. If you want to vote for **Team Sparkle** (Kougaiji and Goku) or **Team Glitter Glue** (Sanzo and Gojyo), you can still do so. In case you can't use the message thing, or find my email on my profile, and you want to send me a fan art vote, I can be reached at: 

Chaos (underscore) butterflies (at) hotmail (dot) com.

Or you can review and let me know who you think deserves the cup.

May the cutest team win!

Btw: I just picked up Volumes 5 and 6 of the Reload manga. Seems like Goku does have a thing for switching teams: occasionally, he plays for Team Gat, and Team Zakuro… and it's freaking hilarious!

_I didn't get it at first, but now I love Zakuro as much as everyone else…Dammit, did I look into his eyes? _


	53. Part 53: Saccharine Cup Prolonged

**When Chibis Attack! Part 53 **

**Part 53: Saccharine Cup Prolonged **

We bring the bottle back with us. The fact that this doesn't get the attention of any of the combatants is a testament to how well the game is going.

Or to how thick the air is with sparkles.

"Oh, what horror have I unleashed…" Hakkai wrings his hands, sitting on my shoulder.

"There, there," Fill his sake cup with rum, and pass it up. "They were crazy long before you ever met them."

* * *

Some niggling part of me thinks that Hakkai _should_ have known what shiny things would do to them. But all I've ever seen of this Sparkle Obsession is the pair of cards flanking (and partially obscuring) my grandmother's picture. 

Either way, 'forgive and forget' is my motto, and there's still enough rum left in this bottle to seriously help with the 'forget' part.

* * *

"Goal!" Kougaiji squeaks triumphantly, appearing momentarily above the cloud, caked in sparkles and scintillating in the spotlight. 

"What? No, it wasn't!" Sanzo hollers, appearing at the edge of the cloud.

"There are goals?" Gojyo mutters, somewhere in the midst of the messy mass.

* * *

Sounds like they need an umpire's officiation. 

"Looked pretty… effective to me. What do you think, Hakkai?" Try to imply: Can you imagine the mess, if this turned into a _real _fight? Imagine well, since you'll be the one doing the cleaning.

"Oh, yes." Hakkai agrees, thoughtfully. "I think Team Sparkle even gets extra points for proper use of lighting. But you'll have to switch to Extra-Cute rules now, since he scored in the first quadrangle."

* * *

Four heads appear, protruding from the cloud at conspicuously different levels. 

"Huh?"

"I think the sparkles are getting to him."

"It _was _kind of mean, not to let him play…"

"Can you get high on sparkles?"

"Wheeee!"

* * *

"An excellent example of Extra-Cute play, Kougaiji," Hakkai reasserts official control. "But since head-protrusion is an automatic call of Time Out, I'm afraid it wasn't counted." 

"Poo."

"Watch your mouth, young man."

"Sowwy, Mummy."

"Game on!" Hakkai raises his cup, and the participants dive back into the coruscating cloud.

* * *

"So, for the record – what's the score, Hakkai?" I inquire. After all, I do have a job to do. 

"Two shots for me, one for you. But, to be fair, your cup is bigger."

"Let's even that out, then."

Pour. Drink. Scintillate.

* * *

It's strangely relaxing to watch. Since most of the action transpires inside the cloud, anything they break is broken out of sight. 

And it really is quite pretty when one of them runs out of the Sparkle Zone, leaving a comet-tail of glitter fluttering to the ground behind him.

That, and Hakkai brought snacks. That makes the drinking _even more_ pleasant.

* * *

Ah, sports and drinking. Reminds me of my youthful college… 

"Ah! He hugged me! I've been hugged! Did the ref see that? Hakkai!"

Yes, thank you, Sanzo. That's the part I'd managed to forget.

* * *

"Well… it was just a minor infraction." Hakkai studiously inspects the damages. 

"I didn't mean to! I was trying to get leverage to adjust the spotlight."

Wait a minute – I thought that was Kougaiji, but when you scrape the sparkles off, it's Goku!

"See? He was trying to Steal the Show! He's just as bad as that rotten, no good…"

"Wheeeee!"

* * *

"It's Time Out again, Kougaiji." Hakkai brushes stray sparkles from his shoulder. "And you got some sparkles in my drink, which is also a minor infraction. Yes, I'm afraid Team Sparkle will have a Comical Hats penalty." 

"But I hardly touched him!" Goku is still mystified by all the fuss.

"That's what you get for switching sides _again_, Monkey Face!" Gojyo helpfully elucidates.

"You're just jealous, because your team doesn't have matching shirts!"

"Who needs matching shirts? I can _remember_ whose team I'm on… unlike a Baby Monkey I know!"

Where did they get those shirts, anyway? Team Sparkle certainly has a very professional look to it.

* * *

Hakkai edges around the argument to deposit a pair of Viking Horns on Goku, and a Pirate Hat on Kougaiji. Which makes sense, since he obviously runs a tight ship. 

"Comical Hats penalty on Team Sparkle. Along with Sanzo's accidental goal, that brings Team Glitter Glue even. It's neck and neck!"

"I scored a goal? I mean, yes. I scored. Of course." Sanzo seems rather befuddled. Probably lingering effects of the accidental hug. But he shakes it off, along with a shower of sparkly dust.

"Second Trimester, Game on!" Hakkai blows a kazoo, and everyone rushes back into the cloud, Kougaiji yelling, "Avast!"

* * *

Hakkai looks up at me. 

"What?" I hand him his drink with the inquiry.

"Sparkle on your nose."

"Oh. Whoops. Did I get it?"

"Now it's on your cheek."

"Aw, man. There?"

"Here, let me…"

"Don't spill your drink…"

"Right. Um. There are several more on you now. I'm terribly sorry."

"No worries." Sit back, surrendering to the sparkly inevitability of it all. There are sparkles on my socks, where they came too close to the action.

A smile spreads through rarely-used muscles on my face.

"No worries. Here, let me fill that up for you." Pour Hakkai another drink.

"Thank you. Snack?"

"Very good." Take a pastry. "Very good."

After all, you don't ever count your sparkles until the game is done.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

New Vote for **Team Glitter Glue**! Sanzo and Gojyo have pulled even, thanks to a new vote by **Renegade Kitsune**, in the form of a poster. You can see it from my profile. 

Next chapter will be the finale of the Saccharine Cup, so get your votes in!

I apologize for the delay, but I was making you a present: I have written and illustrated **The Little Kitten Who Could**. I just have to find somewhere to post it, since it's not anime or manga. I was thinking of getting a deviantart account. Anyone know if that works?

Anyway, I'll have it ready for the finale. Then you, too, can cuddle a book.

Oh, and I've updated **Chibis Gone Wild**. I'll update it again, once my hand heals.

Next Time: The Thrill of Victory! The Agony of the Feet!


	54. Part 54: Saccharine Cup PostApocalyptic

If you've been wondering about CB's radio silence:

My cat died. I'd had her for 12 years: she'd seen me through five stalkers, three bouts of pneumonia, and the crippling disease that's kept me housebound for the last three years. She didn't suffer, and went gently.

Why am I including this in the story that you're reading because your own life has it's share of sadness and you desperately need a laugh? Because she slept on my head. She ran around my ankles, and made funny noises in the night. I'm not the Drunken Narrator, but the Cat is definitely My Cat, and some of the Chibis are her inspiration as well.

The irony that she died the week after I finished posting "The Little Kitten Who Could" on deviantart is not lost on me.

So, I haven't been able to write. Not properly, anyway. But I'm picking it back up again, now; my voice is coming back. I just want you to know that all of this story…

It was written with paws.

* * *

Now, a month later, I've acquired a pair of kittens. Though the process is slow, they are gradually re-teaching me how to hold a pen and how to think cute thoughts. They hug my ankles, and fall asleep when I read to them.

So, my apologies for the sad thoughts; I'll make it up to you with laughter.

On with the show!

* * *

**When Chibis Attack! **

**Part 54: Saccharine Cup Post-Apocalyptic **

By the time the contest is over , all of the sparkle-caked combatants lie sprawled across the floor like extras in an extremely bizarre 1970s Rock Opera.

But by then, Hakkai and I are drunk enough to sing Waltzing Matilda, at the top of our lungs and without shame.

* * *

"I… I wonder if there are a third as many sparkles as… as there _are_?" I muse aloud, gesturing descriptively with my glass.

Hakkai pauses, having forgotten the Chibigenkyo version of the Third Verse:

"Goodness – hic – excuse me! I'm not quite sure what you – hic! Oh my! – mean."

"I mean…" What _do_ I mean? Oh, right. "I mean, I can see three Hakkais right now, but I'm sure there's probably no more than… one."

Hakkai pats himself down, looks to both sides, then up at me. He nods.

"I think you're right, there."

"So, if I see three of you when there's really only one, then… then… Shoot, what was it?"

Hakkai scratches his head. Then, a light bulb, complete with festive lampshade, flickers above his head:

"Sparkles!"

* * *

This draws a collective groan from a few of the chibi-shaped lumps of glitter. Ignore it and desperately grasp at the thread of conversational continuity.

"Right! Three-to-one, you see. Only a third of the sparkles that I'm seeing are really sparkles."

Hakkai looks up at me, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He looks at the sparkle-covered room. He runs a finger through the inch-thick coating on my desk.

"I wonder how that will effect scoring…"

This raises a louder groan, and odd bits of movement.

* * *

Hakkai weaves and pokes his way among the bodies - trying to rouse them, though I'm not sure why.

I'm not sure of much, right now.

He finally takes out a stick, covered in numbers, and jabs it into a layer of sparkles.

"Ouch!"

"Oh! Sorry Gojyo. A foot to the side, then…"

He pokes again… and loses his stick.

He glances up at me.

"Ahem… I think Goku ate my stick."

* * *

Return his gaze blankly for a moment.

Reach across, pull my tire-pressure gauge from its impractical home in the pen-holder. Pass it to Hakkai, who knods appreciatively.

"Very good. Excellent work, Madam Scorekeeper."

Smile. Job well done, that.

* * *

Hakkai pokes the tire-end of the gauge into another heap of sparkles.

"Blow, please."

I did not know that my tire gauge had a pink section, complete with hearts and smiles beside the numbers.

I've never used it to score Sparkling though. Maybe they were there all along.

* * *

Finally, Hakkai climbs back onto my knee.

He gives me a quizzical look, and blows into the end of the Sparklometer himself. It makes a noise like a kazoo.

He passes it ceremoniously up to me.

Be a good sport: Blow.

The number it registers looks suspiciously like a blood alcohol reading.

* * *

Hakkai claps for attention.

"I have an announcement to make.

"First of all, I'd like to mention that both Madam Scorekeeper and I have managed to accrue one minor goal apiece. In light of this unprecedented event…."

Hakkai lifts his cup in my direction.

Pour.

Drink.

Celebrate.

"It really is quite good…" Hakkai gazes into the cup, admiring the clear, strong liquor as it produces its own sparkle in the spotlight gleam. "Now, where was I?"

"Announcing the… um…" The thing. People who… thing.

"Oh, right. The Winner. Thank you." Hakkai clears his throat and totters a little on my knee. Steady him. "You're very kind."

"Don't mention it."

"Ahem. The Winner of the Saccharine Cup is… Oh, goodness, that's not how it's done, is it? One generally announces Second Place first."

"Usually." Some of the sparkle mounds have shifted to a generally upright position, though occasionally they fall over again.

"Very professional that way."

"Is there a prize?" The thought springs into my mind like a jaguar into a pillow factory.

"What, for professionalism?"

"…uh… no. Runner up?"

"Hm? Oh! Yes. Right here."

* * *

Hakkai reaches behind his back and produces a very large cardboard box, full to the top of various items. He sets it on the floor with a notable 'thunk,' which would suggest to someone more sober than I that he should not have been able to lift it in the first place, let alone conceal it about his person.

Thankfully, I am far too drunk to notice. Ha ha!

* * *

"Cool! A new box!" One pile resolves itself into Goku, who is, no doubt, calculating the possible flight speed of said box.

"Ah ha ha ha… no. The box isn't the prize, but I'm sure you'll enjoy what _is_, as Team Sparkle has (terribly unexpectedly, I might add) come in Second."

* * *

Blink.

* * *

"The prize for your Second Place win…"

Sanzo is now sitting up, smug expression firmly fixed on his face. Gojyo, likewise, is dusting himself off in a flurry of glitter.

They are, however, still less mobile than Kougaiji and Goku, who are peering over the edge of the box like curious kittens. They seem utterly unbothered by their loss.

Instead, Goku celebrates, "We get a box!"

* * *

"Um… no. I'm afraid you have to return the box. But as Second Place Winners…"

" First Place_Losers_!" taunts Gojyo.

"… you will receive six cartons of Hi-Lites and six cartons of Marlboro cigarettes."

* * *

"Huh?"

* * *

"Also, several lighters, and this charming all-weather, outdoor ashtray!"

Gojyo and Sanzo are suddenly not only upright and mobile, but staring over the edge of the box.

"Uh… Hakkai…"

"As well, as Second Place Winners, Team Sparkle will receive a year's subscription to Cat Fancy ™ magazine, which comes with this lovely pendant of 'Buttons,' this year's Pretty Kitty award winner."

* * *

Hakkai ceremoniously hangs the pendant around Goku's neck, as if bestowing a silver medal.

"Gee… thanks." Goku is perhaps a little more bemused than impressed.

Sanzo, however, watches the medal ceremony with the eyes of a diabetic in a candy factory.

* * *

"You'll also enjoy celebrating with this 36-pack Big Cube of beer!" Hakkai continues his flourishing presentation.

"Do you drink?" Goku asks Kougaiji.

"Mummy wouldn't appwove." I certainly wouldn't approve of him drinking _my _booze.

"I don't drink either."

"But _I_ drink…" moans Gojyo, staring longingly at the beer cans, each one bigger than his head.

Sanzo simply remains transfixed by the cover of this month's "Special Edition: Raincoats!"

* * *

"Finally, as Second Place Winners, you, Team Sparkle, will receive this special set of rare production photos." Hakkai passes them to Kougaiji. "Samantha is a pure-bred Snowshoe, a very rare breed, and took best-in-show at international cat shows for nearly a decade. Since her retirement last year, rare photographs of her have been especially hard to obtain."

A strange, squeaking noise emanates from Sanzo's direction.

"In fact," continues Hakkai, oblivious (or is he?). "I out-bid a user called kittenmonk on EBay at the last moment to acquire only the last two of these pictures. Though, Kougaiji, I'm sure you'll note that they are the least attractive in this complete set of ten…"

"Forfeit!" Sanzo roars.

* * *

"Excuse me?" Hakkai turns to him, still somewhat tottery.

"I said Forfeit! Team Glitter Glue forfeits!"

"But you've already won, Sanzo." Hakkai blinks several times, trying to absorb the verbal onslaught. "I'm not sure you _can_ forfeit once you've…"

"I said forfeit, and we will damn well forfeit. Keep your goddamn trophy!" Sanzo snatches the pictures from Kougaiji's hand and gazes at them lovingly. He rounds on Gojyo: "You'd better…"

"I forfeit! Yep! Forfeit!" Gojyo is already opening a package of Hi-Lites, and hugging a beer. "Team Sparkle wins. Hooray Team Sparkle, and their silly matching shirts! Maybe I'll make one myself…"

"See? Forfeit. Now give them the goddamn Cup, and we will never speak of this again."

Oh, Sanzo… I doubt that. I really do.

* * *

Hakkai takes out a thick book entitled "The Official FISA Rules of Sparkling" and flips though it. He settles at a previously-marked page.

"Ahem." Hakkai looks up. "As Team Leader, do you, Toa's 31st Genjyo Sanzo, acknowledge that Team Sparkle deserves the victory and disavow all claim to the Cup and First Prize?"

"Yes. I just said that." Sanzo has a magazine open, and cigarette in his mouth already, which partly muffles the words.

"Ahem. Rules, you know." Hakkai rounds on Kougaiji. "And do you, as leader of Team Sparkle accept this forfeit?"

"Hold it!" Goku grabs Kougaiji and whispers into his ear. The Little Prince knods sagely.

Sanzo and Gojyo take up positions to guard their ill-gotten loot with any means necessary.

I pull my feet up under me, away from the looming conflagration.

* * *

"What's _first_ pwize?" asks Kougaiji, ominously.

"Ah!" Hakkai furrows his brow in drunken thought. "Didn't I say? Obviously, there's the aforementioned Saccharine Cup, and card-making privileges… oh, and you get the box that the Second Prize came in."

"Dis box?" Kougaiji taps the sturdy packing crate with a claw. It appears to be reinforced to hold the considerable weight of beer, and is big enough that even I could sit in it, if I felt like making a fool of myself.

"Just a box?" squeaks Gojyo. "That's all we would get? A stupid…"

"We'll take it!" Kougaiji and Goku meet eye and knod. "Go Team Spawkle!"

* * *

And there you have it. As Goku removes the Buttons pendant, and hands it to Sanzo, I can't help thinking that, all round, it went pretty well.

It could certainly have been worse.

Much, much worse.

But I'd really rather not think about that. I'd rather think about my bed. And sleep. And…

"I'm going to bed."

"Very good, very good. Job well done." Hakkai pats my ankle and smiles as I stand.

"You too."

"It was, rather, wasn't it?"

There's a somewhat nefarious gleam in Hakkai's eye, but it is well obscured by a film of drunkenness. Likewise, I'm not too sure if I should believe a thing my eyes are telling me at the moment. As if I believe half of what I see on a daily basis…

Enough. Let the FISA officials deal with the allegations of match-fixing. All I do is keep score. To bed with me! Mr. Pillow, here I come!

* * *

Chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

It was very close. In fact, Glitter Glue won by one vote in the Big Votes (pictures, naming guilds after, etc.), while Team Sparkle won in Review Votes. After I did the math, and consulted the referee, we decided that this was best. And yes, two people voted for the Drunk and Hakkai.

As a reward for all of you**, "The Little Kitten Who Could" is now available** at the top of my profile page. I will be posting future original works of fiction (which you will likely find quite funny) over at deviantart as well, until a better site presents itself. Fiction Press is just too cluttered with crap, I'm afraid. Know a good site? Let me know.

The final picture votes for this contest were two gorgeous pieces, from **Commander Mai **and **Crystal Remnant**. Don't forget to check them out! Kougaiji with a Pot o' Sparkles!

And Don't forget to **Review**! I need the props! I'm using them to hold my roof up!


	55. Part 55: Saccharine Cup Gone Postal

**When Chibis Attack! **

**Part 55: Saccharine Cup Gone Postal **

Stumbling toward my bedroom, I hear a vacuum cleaner come on.

A terrible thought enters my head.

Stumble back to the front room.

"Hakkai, you've worked hard today. Clean up can wait until… um."

* * *

Four chibis are suspended like a banner from one of my desk's legs. They cling, each one to the other's ankles as Hakkai targets them with the vacuum hose attachment. 

The look of terror on each face reminds me of my cat, who tends to attack me whenever I use the vacuum. The cat, however, is never in any danger of being sucked into the vacuum. As chibi fingernails franticly grip the desk leg, and fountains of sparkles pour off them into the unusually strong hose, I can't help thinking that the chibis might not be so lucky.

* * *

Try to think of a kind way to tell Hakkai that this is probably not a good idea. 

Saved from having to by Gojyo's trousers, which fly off to their fiery doom, caught in the vacuum's filter. This triggers an Emergency Vacuum Shutdown, and a cease in Vacuum Activities.

Gojyo's boxers have the inevitable Comical Hearts on them… and pictures of ducks?

* * *

Hakkai peers into the hose of my now ex-vacuum. He looks disappointed, as if he hoped to terrify his friends a bit longer. 

He blinks up at me.

"Well… they're Mostly Clean. I could try putting them in the dishwasher…"

"No! Thanks. Hakkai." Notice that the Frightened Four have fled. "I think Mostly Clean is good enough. The rest can wait until morning."

He smiles, and drops the Hose of Horrors.

"Right, then."

"Goodnight, then."

* * *

Following the footsteps of little, round feet into my bedroom, a tug at my pant leg causes me to pause. 

Kougaiji, looking up at me with adoring eyes.

"Uh… yes?" Awkwardly squat down to chibi level.

* * *

The Serious Look: 

"Sometimes Hakkai is scawy, Mummy." He whispers behind a hand.

Contemplate the essential truth of this: Hakkai is, indeed, scary.

"But don't wowwy." Kougaiji continues. "I'll pwotect you!"

After a brief pose, hands on hips and twinkling eyes, he unleashes the Running Leap Hug Attack on me, with the traditional battle cry of "Wuv you!"

Do I feel safer?

I do feel sleepier. If it's possible to be sleepier than this.

Mr. Pillow, what's _your_ expert fnnnrrrsk…

* * *

Chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

Thanks for all your comments and support! I really appreciate it – these are the things that keep me writing.  
Speaking of writing, I'm posting a work of original fiction over at deviant art: It's called **The Blinds**, and will be darkly hilarious. But, it doesn't contain chibis, and will have nothing to do with anime or manga, so it can't be posted over here. If you can't comment on deviant art, feel free to message me here regarding it instead. If you can think of a better place to post it, let me know. 

This time: Short Chapter.

Next time: Long Chapter!


	56. Part 56: In Which Titles Rturn to Format

**When Chibis Attack! **

**Part 56: In Which Titles Return to Format **

Late that night, as the drunk snores contentedly in the near-comatose sleep of intense intoxication, a figure creeps across the room.

It shines a flashlight on Sanzo's face as he lies on his pillow/bed. The thin volume of _The Little Kitten Who Could_ is tucked under his arm.

"What the…" Sanzo opens his eyes.

"Shhhh!" The figure motions him out into the hallway. Sanzo switches on his own flashlight, tucks the book under his pillow, and follows. They close the door behind themselves.

* * *

All the chibis are assembled in the kitchen, and the lights are on. Sanzo blinks warily around at the pyjama-clad crew.

"What the hell is this about?"

Hakkai, the Wielder of the Summoning Flashlight, clears his throat:

"Sorry to get you all out of bed like this, but I'm afraid we have a problem."

This causes a stir: sleepy eyes open fully, fidgeting halts abruptly.

"What's up, Hakkai?" Gojyo asks, pulling a pair of panties off his head.

"We have a thief in our midst."

* * *

Chorus of Obligatory Gasps.

"Some time tonight, between the Saccharine Cup and when I got up for a glass of milk, some person or persons unknown made off with…"

Pause for Suspense

"The Cookies."

* * *

"No!" gasps Goku. "Not the Cookies!"

"Oh, come on. You're probably the one who did it! Goku stole the Cookies from the Cookie Jar!"

All eyes turn to Goku, who stares about in bewilderment and shock.

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you!" Gojyo pokes him with a finger.

"Couldn't be!"

"Then who?" Asks Hakkai, hand on his chin in thought.

* * *

Goku looks around desperately, and chooses the first person who catches his eye: the person who is eating an apple and trying to keep his sleepy eyes from closing.

"Kougaiji!" Goku swallows his treacherous guilt. "Kougaiji stole the cookies from the cookie jar!"

Kougaiji stops eating, wide-eyed in surprise.

"Who, me?"

"Yes…" Hakkai turns to him, examining the Littlest Prince intently. "You."

* * *

Kougaiji rises to his feet, and raises a hand in oath:

"In awl my yeaws, I haff neffer turned to such petty acts of lawceny, to take cookies to which I haff no wegal wight. The Wule of Law is pawamount in any orderwy and juft shociety. I sweawr, I took no cookies, nowr would I under any ciwrcumshtanshes."

* * *

There is a pause as the audience tries to decipher this mangled oratory.

Hakkai sorts it out first:

"Yes, thank you, point taken. For future reference, though, Kougaiji, a simple 'couldn't be!' would suffice."

"Oh-tay!" Kougaiji smiles and returns to his apple-munching.

* * *

"But that leaves us with a question." Hakkai resumes. "Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar?"

Kougaiji shrugs, unwilling to accuse without evidence. This, too, is an important concept in 'Wule of Law.'

So, Goku, relieved at Kougaiji's innocence, has to take another stab at it.

"Gojyo! Gojyo stole the cookie from the cookie jar."

* * *

Gojyo, who had been using this time to try to light his cigarette with a power outlet and paperclip, turns in surprise. Ironically, this saves him from premature electrocution.

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you!" Now it's Goku's turn to point a finger.

"Couldn't be!"

* * *

Gojyo pauses, waiting for the next line and his turn to pick the victim.

"I'm afraid we'll require a little more evidence than that, Gojyo." Hakkai states primly.

"But you just told Prince Cutesy to say…"

"Yes, but that's _Kougaiji_. He can't do anything without standing on something tall and announcing it. At the very least, he would have made a dramatic entrance."

"It's awl in the timink!" Kougaiji adds, pitching his apple core to a perfect 3-point basket in the trash can.

"You, on the other hand…"

"No way! I mean, just because I steal panties, doesn't mean…" Gojyo splutters ineffectually, looking for an ally in the face of the Hakkai Cookie Fact Finding Commission: Goku is smug with delight at it being Someone Else's Fault. Sanzo is already headed back to bed, as if this were all decided.

The situation looks bleak.

* * *

"Don't wowwy."

Gojyo turns around to face Kougaiji, who is smiling a less-than-reassuring smile of reassurance.

"Did you just say 'Don't worry'?" Gojyo asks, after a moment of careful translation.

"Yeff. I bewieve you."

* * *

After the same Pause for Translation, Gojyo is taken aback. Tears begin to well up in his enormous eyes. He turns away to clear his throat, and return the panties to his head. Kougaiji waits patiently for the 'Dramatic Inner Monologue - Complete with Flashbacks' to end, and Gojyo to deliver his line, which goes:

"Thanks… but, why?"

"Because there are cwumbs on Sanzo's bunny swippers."

* * *

Sanzo is almost out of the kitchen. As all eyes turn to him, he glances up from reading the Free Kittens ads in the Classified section.

"What's _your_ problem?" He squints at them defiantly, but continues backing toward the hallway.

"Ah ha ha ha… Did _you_ steal the cookies from the cookie jar?" Asks Hakkai, looking meaningfully at the crumb-bedecked slippers. He is somewhat surprised that they are bunnies and not kittens.

"So what if I did?" Sanzo eschews the traditional 'Who, me?', but tries to hide both feet behind each other. "It's none of your business what I eat!"

* * *

Hakkai's menacing advance, flanked by vengeful Former Victims, manages to corner Sanzo by the stove. Hakkai pulls an enormous magnifying glass from behind his back to inspects the slippers, and puts on a Sherlock Holmes hat to assist in Catching Bad Guys.

"Hmmm… bunnies? How curious."

Sanzo, Unashamed Bad Guy, twitches, then explodes:

"They're goddamn _cookies_! They're _meant_ to be eaten. That's their purpose in life! Besides, I missed dinner."

"Bunnies do sheem stwange…" Kougaiji is also carefully examining the slippers now.

Sanzo's hand is in his sleeve, fingering the Fan. He is contemplating resisting arrest. Nonetheless, furiously red, he manages to choke out his reply.

"They… were… _out_… of… kittens!"

* * *

Not a good choice.

"Awwwwwwwwww!" Chorus the Four InFestigators.

"That's so cute!" Hakkai pats Sanzo on the head.

Then, as one chibi, they turn and run away.

Sanzo gives chase, yelling profane suggestions of parentage.

As a group, they turn on him, stopping Sanzo dead in his tracks.

"Shhhhh!"

"Mummy's smeepink!"

"Oh… right." Sanzo pauses, then tip-toes after them, whispering blasphemous accusations.

* * *

The sugar keeps him awake well after the others have called 'Base' and gone back to bed.

But he _still_ can't find the curiously lettered Bottle o' Plot.

Crime… and punishment.

* * *

chibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibichibi

* * *

If you have never played this McCarthy-esque childhood game, commonly known as "Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar?", I apologize for the confusion. I, however, have fond childhood memories of chanting the lines that the chibis repeat here.

Perhaps it's funny, even without context.

Both my computers died, and are in the process of being rebuilt. So, I lost a full chapter of **The Blinds**, and this was delayed. If any of you have sent fan-art, and I haven't posted a link to it yet on my profile, please let me know. It may have gotten lost in the digital breakdown.

Next Time: Dreams!


	57. Part 57: In Which Homage is Paid

**When Chibis Attack!**

**Part 57: In Which Homage is Paid**

Deep in the night, my recurring nightmare… recurs.

It's the one where the basement is flooding, and I'm trapped down there. No matter how hard I try to reach the stairs, I never can.

Oh well, if I'm stuck down here anyway, I might as well turn on the light.

* * *

Click

"Mummy! I've found you!"

* * *

The 'struggle through black water toward stairs that move away' dream does not usually feature Chibi Kougaiji, but there he is: bravely piloting a cardboard box toward me.

He steps up on the edge of the box, and takes my hand, his cape flourishing in the non-existent breeze.

He flips up his eye patch when he speaks.

* * *

"I've sailed the sea of stars wooking for you, Mummy!" he exclaims, then glances down at the sea-worthy box, "… though, weally, dis should be a twain."

"A two-two twain?" This is certainly not the usual, panic-inducing dream. This is quite different, panic-wise.

"Yeff. Still…" He gestures grandly about the conspicuously large box. "Dis is the Galaxy #9 Wegular. De Expwess doesn't wun dis time of night."

Kougaiji helps me aboard, and turns the box toward a distant light.

* * *

"You're going sailing?" Inquire, sitting down in the roomy box.

"Oh yeff! Wight after we wescue you."

"We're gonna be pirates!" Goku pokes his head up from between decks. He's wearing a floppy, wide-brimmed hat, and seems even shorter than usual. "Cowboy pirates! In _space_!"

* * *

Smile

* * *

"Can I come?"

But I can feel myself waking up, no matter how hard I try to stay. The dream fades around the edges, and I barely hear Kougaiji's final words.

"Goodbye, dweams of yoof…"

* * *

I feel a little sentimental. Happy, a little, but nostalgic, as I open my eyes and stretch.

"I feel pretty!" Yodels Gojyo, as he streaks through the room, wearing panties on his head and a fig leaf as…

"Woooo!" And, mercifully, he's gone again. The branch of the fig tree follows hastily behind, quick but surreptitious.

Moments later, gunshots.

There had better be coffee.

* * *

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* * *

Though you love anime, you're too young to remember _Galaxy Express 999_. You're _definitely_ too young to remember _Captain Harlock_ – or as I first watched him in French, _Albator_. Still, I remember him.

It was Captain Harlock who taught me that a space pirate's boots should have spurs, that all women (even me!) are treacherous space aliens, and that a ship's flag should always flutter, even in space.

Most of all, the Captain taught me two vital truths:

Spacesuits are for wimps. Real men can take a little vacuum, and look cool doing it.

If a spaceship hits a planet nose-first at full speed, it's called _ramming_, not crashing. And it's the _planet_ that explodes!

Hopefully, Next Time: In less than 6 months!


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